


Black Queen, White Rook

by inkystars



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Spy, Crossover, F/F, James Bond Crossover, M/M, Sexual Assault, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-25
Updated: 2013-04-04
Packaged: 2017-12-06 12:23:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/735581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkystars/pseuds/inkystars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Agent 005 of MI6, Adam Crawford, is sent on a mission to the small town of Lima, Ohio to observe and then retrieve rogue agent Blaine Anderson, a traitor to the United Kingdom. But things get complicated when he finds Agent 007 entangled with an enigmatic high school hacker by the name of Kurt Hummel. James Bond AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

Cover art by Ripaille on tumblr.

 

**Prologue:**

“Agent 007, report.”

_“White King is secure.”_

“Excellent. And what is the status of the Crown?”

_“I have it.”_

“And when will you be returning to base?”

_“I won’t.”_

Carmen blinked in surprise as she leaned in close to the microphone. “Would you care to repeat that, 007?”

_“I’m pretty sure that you understood me the first time, ma’am.”_

“007—”

_“I’m taking the crown with me stateside. Do drop a line if you’re ever in the area.”_

“Anderson!”

The line went dead.

**Chapter 1:**

Adam rolled his sleeves up to his elbows as he turned to the whiteboard and wrote his name neatly in black marker. “Hello class, I’m Mr. Adam Crawford and I’ll be your new English teacher,” he said in a flawless American accent.

 Turning back to the class, he was met with absent chatter, inattentiveness, and two cases of texting under the desk, with only one student appearing to actually pay attention to anything he was saying—a very put-together boy dressed in pale blue and pink sitting in the third row who had just taken a pair of fashionable white glasses out of his satchel and perched them on the tip of his nose as he leaned forward, pen poised to take notes.

Adam immediately started directing the rest of his speech to the boy, glad that his cover was at least benefitting one civilian despite them not being a resident of his motherland. 

It had been two weeks since he, Agent 005, had received the assignment of assessing the stance of rouge Agent 007, Blaine Anderson, and retrieving the Crown from him. Q Branch had tracked Anderson to a small town in the middle of rural Ohio state in America, known as Lima, and Adam had made a move stateside in order to find Anderson and report back. He’d been chosen specifically for the job, because he was the one Double-O agent that Anderson had never met, nor knew the alias of, which made him more optimal than say, 006 who’d be sure to send 007 back into hiding again.

Which led to him becoming the new English teacher at William McKinley High School.

“Our curriculum this semester deals with higher-level English literature, including Jane Eyre, The Sound and The Fury, The Once and Future King…”

Anderson was enrolled as a student, under the name of Devon Cooper. He wasn’t even trying.

“Mr. Crawford?”

Adam blinked, straightening against his desk. “Yes Mr. …?”

“Hummel, sir. Kurt Hummel,” the pastel boy said clearly as he sat up straight in his seat. “I was just wondering which grammar components we’d cover this semester.”

“Ah, yes,” Adam said, surprised as he launched into a long speech about gerundives and declensions and the passive paraphrastic, all of which Kurt Hummel took studious notes on.

The hour went by quickly, Adam noted in surprise. Much faster than the first two periods had gone when he’d droned at the prior five inattentive classes. The bell rang to signify the end of the school day and he called out a homework assignment, which only Mr. Hummel seemed to note before turning to straighten his desk.

“Mr. Crawford?”

He turned and there was Mr. Hummel, taking off his glasses and tucking them into the side of his satchel bag.

“Yes Mr. Hummel?”

Kurt fiddled with the strap of his bag, biting his lip nervously. “Um…Mr. Matthews, the old English teacher used to facilitate the chess club every Friday afternoon, and we can’t continue on without an adult—”

“I’d be happy to, Mr. Hummel,” Adam smiled with a nod. “I was actually captain of the chess team at Oxford, when I attended.”

“Oxford?” Kurt questioned lightly, his eyebrows raising. 

“Yes,” Adam replied. “I could even offer the club some pointers, if necessary.”

“That sounds interesting,” Kurt smiled sweetly. “I look forward to beating you.” He promptly turned on his heel and left the classroom, head held high.

Adam smirked, the presumption of youth never failing to amuse him.

***

He got everything he needed out of the glee club teacher, William Schuester, and his fiance, the guidance counselor, Emma Pillsbury. 

“I just don’t want to stir the pot, so to speak,” he sighed mournfully the next day at them over coffee in the teacher’s lounge. “Being new can be rough and I don’t want people to assume that I’m going to try and cause trouble or be difficult, just because I’m not from around here.”

“Oh trust me,” William assured him. “You’re a saint compared to Devon.”

“Will,” Emma said admonishingly. 

“Devon?” Adam questioned, his brows furrowing.

Emma sighed. “Devon Cooper. He’s a new student here, just moved from New York. He’s…a bit troubled—”

“He sent one of the football players to the hospital for touching his laptop!” William burst out. “And I’ve tried reaching out to him—I mean, he’s in the glee club—but he doesn’t seem to care about any repercussions, not to mention—”

“It’s really none of our business,” Emma cut him off. “Devon is dealing with his own problems, but he is a good student—”

“When he shows up to class,” William muttered. 

“And besides, he isn’t throwing slushies in kids’ faces like the other jocks,” Emma said diplomatically. “He could be much worse.”

Adam briefly wondered if all schools in America were this messed-up.

***

“Get me Q Branch.”

_“Aw, want to talk to your little brother?”_

Adam rolled his eyes. “Smythe, what are you even doing back? Aren’t you supposed to be in Stockholm right now?”

_“Finished early. And why are you stateside?”_

“007 went rogue.”

_“Oh that’s right, I heard about Blainey boy. Good for him, he needs a break.”_

“He stole the Crown!”

_“Who cares? That entire mission was suspect and you know it—”_

“Another word, 006, and I’ll report you to Carmen,” Adam snapped.

_“Oh you would go crying to mum. Anyways, have fun with the sibling.”_

Adam sighed as he waited for the transfer. Everyone in the office made fun of the resemblance between him and the head of Q Branch, Chandler Kiehl. They weren’t related in any way, but that didn’t stop the office snickers. 

_“Q Branch.”_

“Q, it’s 005.”

_“Oh, hey Crawford. What can I do for you?”_

“I’m going to need a hack dot.”

***

Friday dawned bright and Adam had his plan in motion. He just needed to find Anderson’s locker.

The six classes he had to teach droned on and he expertly hid his frustration as he remained chipper and cool-headed. At lunch he managed to wrangle the location of Anderson’s locker out of a cheerleader. His last class ended and he headed for the locker.

“Mr. Crawford?” 

Adam turned, nearly jumping at the sudden voice that was right behind him. Kurt Hummel stood, looking innocent in pale peach and goldish cream, and for a second Adam’s throat went slightly dry as he stared at the way Kurt’s pink lips went so well with the peach of his collar, before he blinked, squaring his shoulders. “Mr. Hummel?”

“You said that you’d facilitate the chess club?” Kurt asked quietly. “That’s in your room.”

Adam paused, briefly considering. This was his last chance before the week was out for him to tap Anderson’s laptop. But he also couldn’t afford to not appear as the perfect teacher and besides, there was something about Kurt that made him not want to blow off his promise. So he smiled and nodded and said, “Of course, lead the way.”

The chess club turned out to be seven kids, all of varying nerd and dork and geek status. The six besides Kurt automatically paired up and started their own games. Kurt sat by himself in the middle of the room, white glasses perched once more upon the tip of his nose, as took out a laptop and began typing.

Adam slid in the chair across from him. “Someone’s not popular.”

“They’re just tired of me always beating them,” Kurt said evenly, not lifting his eyes from the screen. “They think if they train together separately, one of them will eventually beat me, but it’s been three years and that’s yet to happen. I’m just here in case they need a judge, or to see if something’s really stalemate. None of them want to play me.”

“I’ll play you,” Adam offered with a smile.

Kurt’s fingers paused as he raised his eyes. “Really?”

“Set up the board,” Adam said, gesturing with his hand. “I’ll even let you be white.”

Kurt’s lips curled into a much-too attractive smile. “You may regret that later.” He slid his laptop back into his bag and plucked up the cardboard chessboard, fingers quickly placing pieces upon it, setting up the board.

He moved his rook-pawn first.

Adam raised his eyebrows at the unorthodox move before staring with the game.

Six minutes later, Adam allowed himself a smile. Because he had Kurt.

“Check,” he said evenly, waiting for Kurt to make the move that would allow him to claim checkmate, from three different pieces. He had the game.

“Checkmate,” Kurt said evenly, knocking the black queen away with his white rook. 

Adam stared at the board. That couldn’t be possible, there was no way…

“Well, you lasted longer than any of them, so I’ll give you that,” Kurt said, tucking a stray lock behind his ear. “But if you want a rematch and a chance to reclaim your honor…”

“I wouldn’t take that offer, if I were you,” a low voice said behind Adam as another student pulled up a chair to observe the game and sat in it backwards, leaning his arms against the back of the chair.

Adam’s shoulders set as he turned, recognizing the first voice from countless transmissions that he’d heard in preparation for this mission. 

Looking on at the game’s end on the chessboard in strappy leather boots, tight black jeans, a loose tank top with a leather jacket over it, hair in disarray as well as sporting fresh piercings in his lip, ears, and eyebrow was Blaine Anderson, sending a lazy crooked smile over to Kurt Hummel as played with the little black queen that had rolled off to the side.

“So he didn’t come close to my record?” Blaine grinned.

Kurt’s face dropped. “No, Devon. No one’s beaten your eight minute stalemate.”

Blaine placed the piece back on the board with a smirk before turning to Adam. “You’re playing it wrong,” he informed him lightly. “You think you can beat him, but you can’t beat Kurt. Don’t play to win. Play to draw. That’s the only way to not lose to him. Oh, and never let him take white first, because he’ll kill you.”

“As you learned in every other game that I annihilated you in,” Kurt fumed quietly.

Blaine just smiled serenely at him. “You get scary when you get angry. I love it.” He turned back to Adam. “Don’t challenge him to a rematch. He goes easy on you for the first round, but it just gets worse and worse as he goes on because he learns how you play and then he uses it against you. This game was the best that you’ll ever do against him, trust me.”

“Devon, you’re ruining my fun,” Kurt pouted. 

“It’s what I live for,” Blaine grinned, ruffling Kurt’s hair. Kurt sent him a scowl. Adam felt an illogical surge of jealousy. “Though, I promise I’ll stop warning people off of your devious ways…if you can win one hand of poker against me.”

“Deal,” Kurt said, eyes blazing.

Blaine grinned. “Strip poker.”

Kurt bit his lip. “Can I still use my whole closet?”

“If that gives you some measure of security. I mean, I already have half of it.”

“Leaving me with the pastels,” Kurt grumbled, looking down at his sweater. “Fine, you’re on.”

“Excellent,” Blaine said, standing. 

Adam saw his laptop poking out of his back and stood as well, hand moving surreptitiously to place the dot upon it. Then he moved to straighten up the chessboard. 

“Ready to go, babe?”

Adam looked up in surprise as Kurt smiled, standing as he stowed away his things and allowed Blaine to wrap his arm around his shoulders. The odd pair walked out.

Adam sighed. Well, that complicated matters.

***

That night, he rang up Chandler for a hack on Anderson’s laptop. He kicked back with a glass of scotch as his laptop screen blurred and glitched until it showed Anderson’s and what he was up to at the moment.

It was a chat screen, an extremely secure one at that, between two people. The IP addresses were blurred as were the local points of origin—someone had done an excellent job with keeping their identities obscure.

But once he read the domain names, he smiled. Because he knew exactly who they were.

**Black Queen: So I was thinking.**

**White Rook: Yes?**

**Black Queen: You should hide the Crown.**

**White Rook: And where am I supposed to hide it? I don’t have anywhere secure.**

**Black Queen: Yes, but there’s a problem that’s arisen.**

**White Rook: Are you okay?**

**Black Queen: I’m fine, it’s just I think you should hold onto it, at least for a little while.**

**White Rook: Alright, if that’s what you want. Are we still on for dinner tonight?**

**Black Queen: Dinner and poker. Prepared to be stripped.**

**White Rook: Oh, in your dreams.**

**Black Queen: Why yes, I do dream about it sometimes.**

**White Rook: Well, why don’t you come over and make it a reality then?**

Adam smiled at the screen. 

He had them.


	2. Chapter 2

**  
**

**  
**(Cover art by Ripaille on tumblr)

**Chapter 2:**   


That weekend, Adam did his research. 

He had Q Branch stream files through his laptop for him to read as he went through his daily physical exercises.

Kurt Elizabeth Hummel, 17, had lived in Lima, Ohio his entire life, son of mechanic Burt Hummel and the decade-deceased Elizabeth Hummel. He was a straight-A student, member of the chess and glee clubs at McKinley, and routinely worked at his father’s garage. He had no criminal record to speak of. The one time he’d gotten in trouble was for hacking into the cheerleading coaches computer to find a video of her singing the Olivia Newton John hit “Physical” while working out, yet it hadn’t gone on his permanent school record at all.

Adam pulled a shirt over his head, sitting down at his dining room table with a cup of English Breakfast as he stared, perplexed, at the young Mr. Hummel’s files. He clicked up the saved files he had of Anderson, already well-known to him from his briefing. 

Blaine Devon Anderson, Agent 007 of MI6, the youngest Double-O agent in the field. Only living relative being his estranged half-brother, Cooper Anderson, who was the right-hand man of the PM.

It had been a simple reconnaissance mission a month ago. The eldest daughter of the royal family had gone missing, her last lead being Madrid, and Blaine had been sent to retrieve her and the Crown--the engagement ring that the Princess had chosen to give to her husband-to-be. The ring had been in the family for generations, one of literally dozens of engagement rings. It was a large red diamond surrounded by dozens of small cut white diamonds. An odd choice, but the princess had been known for her eccentricities, and it was exceedingly royal, nonetheless. 

007 had gone to secure the princess--White King was her codename, the figurehead which they had to protect--and the Crown. He’d relayed that White King was secure, and that he was keeping the crown to himself before disappearing stateside.

The princess hadn’t been found and Anderson had disappeared.

Adam glanced back at Kurt’s file, puzzling. 

What on earth did he have to do with all this?

***

He continued to monitor their conversations. Anderson was clearly Black Queen, the agent gone rouge who thought himself unable to be defeated--which had been a trademark of his espionage for MI6, and not an unearned reputation. Anderson was legendary for ability to acquire intel and knowledge and literally anybody on the planet. The man was an unstoppable force in their world.

And then Kurt. The White Rook. Clearly his favored chess piece and Anderson’s defense. Screening through the feed he got from his laptop and sending the data in for diagnostics, Adam learned that Kurt was an incredibly capable hacker, according to Q Branch. It made sense--he was always sitting in a corner on his laptop, and he clearly had the intelligence for it, if their chess match had been any indication.

It still left Adam puzzling over Kurt’s motive. Blaine’s was clear: civilians made everything ten times more difficult, especially international ones. Adam didn’t have the jurisdiction to question and/or torture the answers out of Kurt--the Americans could be so finicky about their own, especially considering how they disregarded all others--and the entire high school setup forced him to use caution.

Not for the first time he was thankful this was his own mission and not Smythe’s. They’d already have an internal affairs debacle on their hands had it been.

But there was still Kurt. And Adam couldn’t even begin to puzzle motive because he didn’t know how informed Kurt truly was. He clearly knew about the crown, but to what extent? Did he know about the international crisis? Did he know that Anderson wasn’t American? Did he even know Anderson’s real name?

Adam relaxed back in his chair. He would wait, and observe.

***

**White Rook: Okay, fine.**

**Black Queen: Fine?**

**White Rook: I hid the Crown someplace safe. Happy?**

**Black Queen: Very.**

**White Rook: Remind me why again?**

**Black Queen: Just a necessary precaution.**

**White Rook: Right. Have you heard back from Red Queen yet?**

**Black Queen: Not yet. But as soon as I have, we’ll be ready to mobilize.**

**White Rook: Good.**

**Black Queen: What was the glee assignment for this week again?**

**White Rook: Um...duplicity?**

**Black Queen: That’s right. Mr. Schue always gives the weirdest assignments.**

**White Rook: Yet they’re also so often fitting as well.**

***

Adam ran Red Queen through with Q Branch, but it brought up nothing for them. Another dead end.

So Adam watched Kurt in his class. Kurt was the perfect student. He took diligent notes. He asked in depth questions. He never spoke out of turn.

It made it even more perplexing when Adam would look out of his office window every afternoon to see Kurt climbing onto the back of Anderson’s motorcycle.

Kurt’s motivations made no sense. It was easy to see why Anderson would want the association--both hacker and shield, and an American one to boot worked well in his favor, his own personal rook to move about the chessboard as he pleased. But Kurt...

***

_“So did you ever find anything out about the Hummel kid?”_

“Smythe go away,” Adam groaned, falling back against his bed.

_“I don’t get it, why don’t you just question him?”_

“It’s a bit more delicate than that.”

_“Ohhhh. He’s cute. Well why don’t you shag him and then question him?”_

“006! I never said he was cute!”

_“Yeah I know, but Q did.”_

“What?”

_“Kiehl thought he was a ‘slice’ whatever the hell that means. Kids today.”_

“Q’s four years younger than you, hardly a kid, but Kurt is, so I’m not going to sleep with him.”

_“Wouldn’t be the first time.”_ **  
**

“Smythe.”

_“Just saying. And Q’s just sent me over his file...wait seriously? That’s him? Jesus, why are you, Anderson, and Q falling all over yourselves? He looks like a turtle.”_

“Goodbye 006.”

_“Don’t forget to sleep with him! Rest assured if you aren’t, than Blaine probably is--”_

Adam disconnected.

***

Anderson came to the chess club meeting again that week.

He showed up earlier that time, with Kurt, the two walking together like polar opposites as they sat down at a desk together and took out a chessboard, Blaine turning it so that he could have white.

Kurt just smirked at him. “You know you’re only delaying the inevitable.” 

“Of course, it’s one of my favorite hobbies,” Blaine replied with an easy grin as he slid his queen-pawn forward.

He was gazing down at the board and missed the utterly adoring look that Kurt sent him, but Adam caught it.

The game lasted just under seven minutes. Kurt managed to rid Blaine of all of his pawns, both rooks, a knight, and a bishop before he emerged the victor. They both sat back in their seats, smiling at each other.

“You were purposefully being random,” Kurt murmured. 

“And you were only half-trying,” Blaine folded his arms. “But it looks like our true natures had to reveal themselves in the end.” 

“No matter how hard we tried,” Kurt supplied back.

Blaine laughed and started to pack up, missing the look of longing that Kurt was sending him.

Adam just watched.

***

**White Rook: Hey, if you aren’t doing anything, do you want to hang out?**

**Black Queen: Sorry, I’m busy today.**

**White Rook: Oh. Okay. What about the glee assignment?**

**Black Queen: Oh, I don’t think I’ll be showing up this week.**

**White Rook: ...are you sure you’re okay?**

**Black Queen: I have to go.**

**White Rook: Bye.**

***

He used a surefire way to lure Kurt in for questioning. 

“Mr. Hummel?”

Kurt paused as he packed up his things on Thursday afternoon. “Yes?”

“I was wondering if you might stay behind for ten minutes?” Adam asked, expression carefully inquisitive. 

Kurt sent him an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, I have to get right to glee club.”

“That’s fine,” Adam said easily with the shake of his head. “It was just about chess. It can wait until tomorrow.”

Kurt blinked, his eyes widening slightly. “Chess?”

Adam suppressed his smile. “Just that rematch you were talking about, but it’s fine. It can wait.”

“That’s okay,” Kurt said, sitting back down. “Glee club’s usually rowdy the first five minutes anyways, so it shouldn’t be too much trouble. Plus it’s a stupid assignment this week...” he trailed off, before closing his eyes and shaking his head.

“If you’re sure,” Adam said hesitantly as he sat opposite Kurt and pulled out a chessboard, setting up the pieces so that he was white.

Kurt smiled. “I see you learned your lesson from last time.”

“Hopefully I can beat my record against you,” Adam said amenably as he moved forward his king’s knight-pawn.  

Kurt’s smile curved up even more. “We’ll see.”

Four minutes passed in silence with Adam carefully contemplating every move. Kurt seemed enthralled in the game, but also a tad distracted, his hand moving to touch a piece before changing his mind and deciding upon another, and his eyes kept going towards the door surreptitiously every thirty-odd seconds. He kept reflexively twisting his left wrist as well.

Adam frowned at the thinness of his sleeves. “Aren’t you cold? You don’t even have a jacket.”

Kurt rolled his eyes. “Devon’s won all my long-sleeved shirts and jackets in poker, but I’m fine. I rarely get cold.” All the same, he tugged both of his sleeves down, twisting his shoulders uncomfortably.

It only showed for a flash, but Adam caught it. Ink on Kurt’s left arm, something multicolored and vibrant, completely opposite to the lavender and mint ensemble he currently wore. 

Adam arched an eyebrow as he moved his bishop forward. “Mr. Hummel, are you alright?”

“What?” Kurt’s eyes snapped sharply back to Adam. “No, I mean yes, I’m fine, I’ve just had a rough day.”

“Straight-A student Kurt Hummel having a rough day?” Adam pressed. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Kurt said firmly, plucking up his rook before blinking and setting it back down, moving his bishop instead.

Adam swapped the bishop with his own. “Check.”

Kurt blinked, staring at the board before swiftly taking the bishop with a rook.

“So,” Adam continued. “Does your rough day have anything to do with Devon?”

Kurt’s eyes flashed and he moved the same rook across the board. “Check.”

Adam easily took it with a knight. “I know that relationships at your age can be difficult, especially if there’s a lack of trust involved.”

Kurt sliced his bishop across the board. “Check.”

The knight took that one as well.

“Kurt,” Adam said, smoothly moving into the first-name basis. “Where’s the Crown?”

Kurt’s eyes shot up to Adam’s before darting back down to the board. “The Crown?”

“I know that you know what I’m talking about Kurt. I have eyes and ears everywhere. I know that you have it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kurt snapped, moving his remaining rook to capture one of Adam’s.

Adam moved his bishop to take Kurt’s own remaining one. “I understand why you’d do it. Enter in Devon Cooper--well, I suppose we both know his real name. Anderson comes. Has to hide out. Shows you a flashy ring. You two can fence it off together, like a gay Bonnie and Clyde.” He moved his knight further across the board.

Kurt snatched up the white queen with his black rook. “Check.”

White king took black rook.

Adam looked up at him, dead serious. “Kurt, you have no idea how deep you’re getting yourself into.”

Kurt looked up at him cooly, moving a pawn. “I don’t know what--”

Adam slammed his hand down on the table. “I know you think that you’re his rook, Kurt. You think that you can protect and shield him with your admittedly impressive computer skills and remarkable intellect but he is using you, Kurt. I’ve seen the way you look at him and I can tell you for a fact that he will  _never_  look at you the same way. Blaine Anderson has duped and seduced countless men and women in every major city across the planet, he uses and manipulates people for their skills before either abandoning them or putting a bullet in their head.  _That_ is your future with Anderson, Kurt, unless you cooperate. Either way, you’re going to get used because you are a pawn in this situation, Kurt. Nothing more.”

He took Kurt’s black queen with his white knight. “Checkmate.”

Kurt froze, staring down at the board. “No you...that’s not...that’s not possible...”

“Do you want to know why you keep losing at poker, Kurt?” Adam asked as he stood, fixing his cuffs.

Kurt looked up at him, eyes wide and continuously darting back to the board, trying to figure out where he went wrong.

“Because it’s not a game of luck and it’s not a game of strategy,” Adam said easily. “It’s a game about reading your opponent and playing them like a fiddle. It’s why Anderson always beats you--he’s a master at that. Chess is the same. It requires a modicum of strategy, but it’s about knowing your opponent and undermining them.” He leaned down over the desk, a breath away from Kurt. “And you’re easy to read, Kurt. You hide behind quiet strategy and calculations, but push the right buttons and go all out, guns blazing, which makes you careless of your defense, which is why you’ll never be a rook. Letting your emotions get to you is a move that only a pawn could make.”

Kurt shoved away from the table and grabbed his bag before running out the door.

Adam carefully put the chessboard and pieces away, glancing in the corner of his bookshelf where the camera from Q Branch had recorded everything. 


	3. Chapter 3

(Cover art by Ripaille on tumblr)

**Chapter 3:**

**White Rook: Where are you? I need to talk to you, it’s really important.**

**White Rook: Hello?**

**White Rook: Please!**

***

_“I said shag him, not row with him.”_

“How do you even keep calling me? I thought I told Q to block you.”

_“It’s amazing what he’ll do once his legs are over his head and--”_

“Okay, I really did not need that mental image.”

_“Mmhmm. So what are you going to do about the Crown?”_

“Well Hummel has it right now, so if we can just extract 007 from the situation and get him back to London, I can take over the interrogation of Hummel and get the location of it out of him.”

_“When should we head out?”_

“I’ll review the situation and send word tonight.”

***

**Black Queen: I took the Crown. It’s safe.**

***

Friday at lunch, Adam got an unexpected visitor at his office.

He looked up from his desk and Blaine Anderson stood in the doorway, leather jacket slung over his arm to show off his powerful wiry arms in his black tank top. His messy curls fell into his eyes as he regarded Adam with a cool look that was a trademark of every Double-O agent. 

Adam sat up straighter in his chair, aware of the two revolvers in his desk and the third under his chair as well as the knife around his ankle. “Mr. Cooper,” he said easily. “Please, have a seat.”

“That’s fine,” Blaine said cooly. “I was just wondering if you’d seen Kurt? He wasn’t at his house this morning and he hasn’t shown up to school.”

“No, I haven’t,” Adam said honestly.

Blaine stared at him. “Well, if he shows up to your class or chess club, tell him that I can’t give him a ride home today and also not to forget that the glee club has a gig tomorrow at the casino.”

“I’ll be sure to relay the message,” Adam said measuredly. 

Blaine’s sharp hazel eyes never left him. “Mr. Crawford.”

“Mr. Cooper,” Adam replied.

Blaine kept his steady gaze. It was nearly unnerving. “If a single hair is harmed on his head, there will be hell to pay.”

“Noted,” Adam said in a clipped manner. 

Blaine turned and pulled his leather jacket over his shoulders, but not before Adam saw the small black tattoo on the back of his left shoulder blade. A small queen chess piece.

***

“Q, 007 has the Crown again.”

_“Excellent. So we extract him tonight?”_

“Yes, we just need a location.”

_“What about Hummel?”_

“I’ll try and get a location or the significance of Red Queen from him, but if I can’t, then we can just forget him.”

_“I’ll relay it to M.”_

“Cheers.”

***

Kurt didn’t show up for class that day, but he showed up for chess club after. He sat at a table alone and played himself, switching the board back and forth.

At the end of the hour, he ended in stalemate.

“Kurt?”

Kurt glanced up at Adam, eyes guarded. “Mr. Crawford?”

Adam started moving the desks back to their original position. “Devon stopped by earlier and asked me to tell you that he couldn’t give you a ride home later today.”

“Is that so?” Kurt asked, eyebrow raised.

Adam nodded.

Kurt straightened his shoulders, but Adam didn’t miss the brief look of hurt on his face. “That’s fine, I’ll just take the bus.” He hoisted his bag up on his short-sleeved shoulder and walked out, head held high.

Twenty minutes later, Adam left his office and turned off the lights, heading for his car. It was raining torrents outside and he threw his coat into the passenger seat and turned up the heat as he pulled out of the parking lot. Nearly a block away, he slammed down on the brakes before reversing.

Waiting at the bus stop in his long white shorts, white short-sleeved dress shirt, and white vest was Kurt Hummel, looking exceedingly drenched and miserable. 

Adam rolled down the passenger window, leaning over the seat. “Do you need a ride?”

Kurt hesitated before nodding.

Adam opened the door for him and Kurt clambered in, moving Adam’s coat to the backseat. He wiped his wet hair out of his face and stared straight out the window.

Adam continued driving. They sat in silence.

Four minutes later, Kurt spoke up. “The turn-off to my house is in the next block.”

Adam ignored him. They drove on.

Kurt stared at him. “That was my street.”

Silence.

“Where are we going?”

Silence.

Kurt reached for the door handle, but Adam locked it, the locks disappearing down into the door. He made a grab for the steering wheel next but Adam effortlessly blocked him before pressing a button under his seat which locked his seatbelt into place, before strapping another one across him. Kurt struggled against it for a few seconds before giving up, folding his hands neatly into his lap.

“I need you to unleash the seatbelt, it’s cutting into me uncomfortably,” Kurt said calmly.

“Not a chance,” Adam said, equally calm.

“I’m bleeding.”

“No you aren’t.”

“Look at my left shoulder.”

Adam did, and his eyes widened in surprise to see blood seeping out through the thin white material of his shirt. He pulled the car over along the side of the road and climbed over to Kurt’s seat. He pulled Kurt’s hands behind the seat and handcuffed them back. Taking out his revolver and placing it calmly in his lap, he straddled Kurt’s legs and released the valve on the belts. They flew back and Kurt breathed a sigh of relief, which caught in his throat as Adam started unbuttoning his shirt.

“Don’t--”

Too late. Adam pushed his unbuttoned shirt and vest back, causing it to catch on Kurt’s arms that were still awkwardly handcuffed behind his back. 

A large tattoo sprawled over Kurt’s left shoulder, down part of his arm and along the left side of his chest. It was a large multicolored octopus, made up of miniscule specks and flecks of color that caught and reflected in the light. Up between his collarbone and armpit was the octopus’ eye,  large and gold and bleeding red tears.

Not tears. Kurt’s blood.

Adam lifted a finger and pushed the eye, causing Kurt to screech in pain. He blinked. “It’s...glass,” he whispered.

“Just the top,” Kurt rasped out. “Below it’s metal. I made a glass top for it because it looked a lot better than the bleak gray iron that it originally was.”

“What is it?” Adam asked curiously.

Kurt didn’t reply.

Adam pressed on the eye again. “Kurt. What is it?”

Kurt bit his lip as tears sprang to his eyes and his breaths came out in huffs. “A support. For my left collarbone. It helps keep the upper left part of my chest intact.”

“Why do you need it?” Adam pressed again, pushing his finger harder on the eye.

“Accident!” Kurt panted out, chest heaving. “There was an accident a year ago. One of the football players...they’d always throw me in lockers or the dumpster, but one took it too far and...and I ended up in the hospital. They had to put in the support.”

“And the tattoo?” Adam prompted. 

“To cover the scars,” Kurt hissed. “I ordered a fake ID.”

“Why an octopus?”

“Are you kidding me?” Kurt asked incredulously. 

Another press.

“Fuck! They’re smart and adaptable and adorable what more could you fucking want from life?”

Adam lifted his finger and Kurt breathed heavily.

“Where’s the Crown?”

“I don’t know,” Kurt insisted.

“I know that Anderson has it now. Where did he put it?”

“I don’t know!” Kurt snapped, bringing his leg up sharply.

Adam shoved it back down, drawing his gun and pressing the muzzle against the golden eye of the octopus. 

Kurt stared up at him, drenched and half undressed and handcuffed and at gunpoint and he broke. He averted his eyes down, but the tears welled up all the same and fell down his cheeks as he heaved gasps and sobs, his entire body shaking like a leaf. “Please stop, please I don’t know where it is--”

The muzzle trailed up to under his chin and tilted his head up so that he was looking Adam in the eye again. “Well what do you know?” Adam breathed over his face.

Kurt licked his lips as his breathing calmed down. “Blaine’s mobilizing tomorrow. Red Queen is coming for the Crown at the casino.”

“Excellent,” Adam said firmly. “I’ll inform M.”

“How did you know?” Kurt asked quietly.

“Know what?”

“That Blaine has the Crown right now.”

Adam smirked. “There’s a hack dot on his computer.”

Kurt’s brows furrowed. “That’s not possible, he would have noticed it.”

“Not a flat one with a camouflage back,” Adam said, smoothing the hair back from Kurt’s cheek with the tip of his gun, causing a shudder to run through Kurt. “I’ve been reading all of your little Black Queen, White Rook conversations.”

Kurt trembled underneath him. “What...” he cleared his throat. “What happens to me next?”

Adam shrugged. “Prison. And your father’s garage will probably be put out of business personally and he’ll be charged with association, considering that the Crown was presumedly residing within his residence for a time.”

“What?” Kurt cried, wriggling viciously before Adam pinned him further.

“Unless,” Adam continued. “You cooperate more and help us bring in Anderson. Do that, and you’re free to go.”

Kurt sagged against the seat. “So I just have to...betray Blaine.”

“He’s a traitor to Britain, Kurt,” Adam said calmly, placing his hand against the pulse point on Kurt’s neck and feeling it flutter. “And you know that he’s been using you this entire time. You’d be doing yourself and everyone else a service.” He leaned in close, staring into his eyes. “Just help us find him tonight and bring him in, then you’re in the clear.”

Kurt’s eyes darted down, filling with tears again as his shoulders shook. “But he’s...I can’t just...”

“Why?” Adam whispered. “I don’t understand, why did you even help him in the first place.”

“He helped me,” Kurt whispered. “Some jocks were harassing me and he threw them off me. And he...he cared and he made me feel wanted and...desirable and...” He glanced back up at Adam, eyes large. “No one’s ever made me feel like that before.”

Adam clicked the safety back on his revolver and tossed it in the driver’s seat before cupping Kurt’s face and kissing him deeply.

It lasted all of ten seconds before Kurt suddenly pulled back. “No,” he gasped out. “I-I can’t, it’s just--”

“Shhh,” Adam hushed him, running his fingers through Kurt’s hair. “Let me show you what feeling wanted is really like.”

Kurt stared up at him, eyes wide, but there wasn’t another protest from his lips as Adam leaned back down.

Retrieving Anderson could wait. He had more pressing matters to attend to.


	4. Chapter 4

(Cover art by Ripaille on tumblr)

**Chapter 4:**

_The wind blew through his hair as he raced across the flat countryside on his bike, the comfortable rumble of the engine filling him with security as he pressed harder on the gas. Sure, he missed his Aston Martin, but the motorcycle offered more efficiency and was far more conspicuous._

_Plus, it was reliable._

_That is...until there was an odd snapping noise and the bike lurched, skidding down the road and throwing Blaine off of it._

_He only got scrapes on his jaw and right shoulder and it wasn’t the first time he’d been thrown from a moving vehicle, but it was raining and he was in the middle of America somewhere and he really really wished that he didn’t have to do this whole thing._

_He walked back over to his motorcycle and looked at the engine with a sigh, heavily tempted to just kick it and see if it’d work._

_(It didn’t.)_

_He squatted next to it and rubbed his hands over his face, trying to remember what Q had told him about motorcycles, wondering if he could attempt a repair._

_A car pulled up in front of him and stopped, the driver hopping out of the large black car._

_“Need help?”_

_Blaine glanced up to see a teenage boy in a white trench coat and glasses peering down at him curiously. “I think I’m fine,” Blaine said, slipping into an American accent._

_“British?” the boy asked, crouching down next to Blaine to look at the motorcycle._

_“What?”_

_“You guys always have a slight affectation when you slide into an American accent,” the boy shrugged, fiddling with something on the bike. “I’m guessing...somewhere in Scotland? Glasgow?”_

_Blaine stared at him before dropping the accent. “Are all roadside fashionable teenage mechanics knowledgeable in the accents of the United Kingdom?”_

_The boy’s lips quirked. “They are if they’re me.”_

_Blaine smiled back before offering a hand. “My name’s Blaine.”_

_The boy shook his hand. “Kurt.”_

***

The door opened to the dark apartment, letting a large square of light in. Then the light clicked on. Kurt, in the doorway, jumped upon seeing Blaine sitting quietly in the armchair which was now facing the door.

“Where were you tonight?” Blaine asked quietly as he cleaned his Walther diligently. “We had dinner plans, remember?”

“I was delayed,” Kurt said quietly, dropping his bag by the doorway before shutting the door firmly. “Sorry, I didn’t think it’d take that long.”

Blaine raised his eyes from his gun to shoot Kurt a look before his eyes widened upon catching sight of the sling around Kurt’s left arm. He carelessly threw the pieces of his gun onto the carpet before rushing over to the doorway. “Kurt, what happened?” he asked, hands hovering around Kurt’s arm.

“It’s fine really,” Kurt sighed, pushing past him to the kitchen. “It was just dislocated. Then popped right back in, it’s fine.”

Blaine moved past him to get an icepack from the freezer and handed it over, which Kurt took with a grateful smile as he awkwardly tried to hop up on the counter with one arm. Blaine’s lips quirked in affection as he lifted Kurt easily onto the counter, to which Kurt gave him another smile in thanks before icing his arm. 

“What happened?” Blaine tried again, gentler this time.

“It was just pulled too far back, honestly,” Kurt reassured him. “It’s fine.”

Blaine stared at him, but let it go. He’d find out later anyways. “Okay,” he nodded.

“Anyways,” Kurt sighed, rolling his shoulder and wincing. “I’m going to need one of my suits back for tomorrow night. This was my last vest and it’s ruined.” He started unbuttoning it with one hand before Blaine moved forward to help him. 

Up close, he was able to see the blooming stain on the vest under the sling. “Kurt--”

“It’s fine, the eye just shifted slightly and came out,” Kurt said, breathing a sigh of relief when Blaine pushed his shirt off him and he reached up to twist at the glass-capped bolt under his collarbone, snapping it back into place. Licking his thumb, he wiped the small traces of blood away from around the inked skin, sagging back against the counter and reapplying the ice to his shoulder. “If I can sleep it off, it’ll be fine,” he murmured tiredly.

Blaine said nothing, but leaned forward to gently kiss the scarred area around the eye.

***

Kurt was sitting on the bed when Blaine emerged from the shower, typing away at his laptop.

“Which suit were you going to go with?” Blaine asked as he went over to his dresser and pulled on pajama pants. “Make sure you can ride a motorcycle in it.”

“That’s okay, I’m going with Mr. Crawford,” Kurt said absently.

Blaine blinked before turning around. “What?”

“He asked me to go with him to the event, and I said yes,” Kurt said in the same distracted voice as his fingers flew across the keyboard.

Blaine walked over to the bed, sitting next to Kurt on it. “When did this happen?”

“About an hour ago.” Kurt leaned down and grabbed Blaine’s laptop off the floor, scrapping his fingers across it for something before bringing his nail to his mouth and licking it, biting down on whatever it was.

Blaine raised an eyebrow but Kurt ignored him, typing on.

“So you were with him this whole time,” Blaine said flatly, staring at Kurt.

“Yes.”

“You were just supposed to plant a bug in his jacket during chess club.”

“Well, the opportunity didn’t arise then so I had to improvise.”

“What happened?”

“He offered a ride and I planted it when I moved his coat into the backseat.”

“Okay, and the four hours since then?” 

Kurt twisted his shoulder. “Dislocation.”

The typing resumed. 

Blaine stared at him. “Did you sleep with him?”

“I don’t really see how that’s relevant,” Kurt muttered, eyes glued to the screen. 

The silence was deafening. 

“So is what that what last night was about?” Blaine said quietly. “Practice?”

Kurt stopped typing.

He shut his laptop and put it away, turning on his side and pulling up the covers. “I’m tired and we have a big night tomorrow. Did you get in touch with Red Queen?”

“She’ll be there to make the switch,” Blaine said evenly as he laid down against his pillows. 

“Good.” There was a tap as Kurt put his glasses on the bedside table.

Blaine couldn’t help but think of twenty-four hours prior, when they’d been in nearly the exact same position.

_“Thank you,” Kurt muttered, curling to his side._

_Blaine frowned briefly before scooting over to him, kissing the side of his neck briefly. “You’re welcome.”_

_There was only silence._

_Blaine frowned before moving back to his side of the bed, unsure as to how to proceed. Kurt wasn’t a target he was trying to gain the trust of or an ally that he needed to manipulate or an enemy he needed to distract. He was just...Kurt. And Blaine had no idea how to handle or even process this situation._

_“So...I assume that this was a--”_

_“One time deal.” Kurt shifted further under the covers, creating a cocoon._

_“Ah,” Blaine nodded at the ceiling. That was usually the way he operated, but he felt almost...let down that it was the case with Kurt. “So you don’t--”_

_“In the interest of saving time so that I can sleep, no I’m not interested in more. I don’t want a relationship with someone like you, and I’d assume you’d be relieved considering your reputation.”_

_“Someone like me?” Blaine questioned, half-annoyed and half-amused._

_Kurt turned to look at him. “I want someone who’s mine. Someone I don’t have to share. I want something that’s stable and concrete and solid. Not chasing a flighty wind who’ll disappear and pop up again at a moment’s notice. Genuine romance, not practiced seduction techniques. Normality. Which you don’t offer and so I won’t waste my time trying to pursue anything romantic.”_

_“That’s very logical,” Blaine said evenly._

_“I know,” Kurt replied, turning back on his side._

_Blaine was almost asleep when he heard it._

_“Blaine?”_

_Blaine turned to look at Kurt who was staring at the ceiling. “Yes?”_

_There was a pause._

_“Just...just for tonight...could you pretend that you were mine?”_

_Wordlessly, Blaine turned and wrapped Kurt up in his arms, pressing a kiss over the cool glass eye of the octopus, moving his lips down and feeling the thrumming heartbeat against the inky skin. “I’m yours.”_

Blaine shifted and pulled the covers on his side more firmly around himself as he stared at his blank wall. 

Sleep had nearly taken him when he felt Kurt shift over and press a kiss to the black queen tattooed onto his shoulder blade. 

“I’m yours too, Blaine.”

***

Blaine took the stage with Santana as the Casino Royale banquet was in full swing and they switched up their microphones. 

“So how did you convince your teacher to let a stranger sing at this event?” Santana queried, arching one of her immaculately waxed eyebrows at Blaine.

“He’s an idiot,” Blaine said simply. “And apparently letting Spanish singing icon Santana Vergara sing will help the glee club image.”

“You could have used Lopez,” Santana rolled her eyes. “I doubt he knows anything about Spanish royalty, despite the fact that he’s supposed to be a Spanish teacher. He speaks it atrociously.”

“Just covering all bases, your majesty,” Blaine grinned, glancing at the door. His smile dropped. 

“Is that your little friend?” Santana smirked. “Ooh, that’s a cute one on his arm.”

“Shut up,” Blaine said, smoothing his hair back, feeling more comfortable now that it was back in it’s natural slicked position. “We just have to hold off until midnight. The princess of Wales will turn eighteen and then I’m in the clear to get the hell out of here.”

“And I’m in the clear to deal with an insane amount of politics,” Santana sighed. 

“You’re the one who wants to marry her,” Blaine rolled his eyes. “Alright, it’s showtime.” 

The band started playing as Blaine sang first. 

_“Another ringer for the slick trigger finger for her majesty.”_

Santana joined in and Blaine thanked all the powers that be that she could sing. _“Another one with the golden tongue poisoning your fantasies.”_

_“Another bill from a killer, turned thriller to a tragedy.”_

They sang together as Blaine’s eyes narrowed, taking in Kurt and Crawford. _“Yeah a door left open, a woman walking by, a drop in the water, a look in your eye, a phone on your table, a man on your side, or someone that you think that you can trust is just another way to die.”_

***

Blaine moved through the crowds towards the bar after he sang, sliding the bartender one of his dozens of fake IDs. 

“What would you like?”

“White Russian,” he said smoothly. “And a martini--shaken, not stirred.” 

The bartender nodded and prepared the drinks, which Blaine took and made a beeline for Kurt and Crawford.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like anything?” he heard Crawford ask as he neared. “I was going for a scotch or--”

“Here darling,” Blaine said, handing Kurt the White Russian. “From Russia, with love.”

Kurt blinked in surprise, accepting it. “Oh, thank you Devon.”

“I was wondering if I could maybe have the next dance, Kurt?” he asked with a charming grin, taking a large gulp of his martini. 

“You may,” Kurt said, sipping his drink as well.

The annoyance was rolling off of Crawford in waves and Blaine reveled in it. “Well, I’ll go get myself a drink.”

“Do that,” Blaine urged, not taking his eyes off Kurt. “You look very fetching, by the way,” he said once Crawford had left. Kurt was wearing all white with a little blood red heart pin over his chest. “Ace of Hearts?”

“King of Spades?” Kurt smiled, fixing the silver spade clip on Blaine’s lapel and straightening his bow tie. He turned his eyes to the stage where Santana was about to sing, smoothing out her red dress. “And I take it that her majesty is the Queen of Diamonds?” 

“Well she will be very soon,” Blaine replied, setting his drink down. “May I have this dance?”

“You may,” Kurt said, setting his down as well and taking Blaine’s arm as they went to the floor. 

_“This is the end. Hold your breath and count to ten. Feel the earth move and then... Hear my heart burst again.”_

“Here’s your mic,” Kurt murmured, pressing it into Blaine’s ear as he mimicked smoothing back his hair. “005 has the bug on him. You’ll be able to hear everything. And here’s the remote, if you want to rewind and playback. It just keeps recording regardless.” His hand brushed around Blaine’s waist and Blaine felt the weight drop into his suit pocket.

“Thank you darling,” Blaine muttered, brushing a kiss to Kurt’s temple. 

_“For this is the end. I’ve drowned and dreamt this moment. So overdue I owe them. Swept away, I’m stolen... Let the sky fall. Let it crumble. We will stand tall, face it all together. Let the sky fall. Let it crumble. We will stand tall, face it all together at skyfall. That skyfall.”_

Blaine sighed as he pulled Kurt close and they swayed together. Not for the first time, he wondered whether or not he was in the right dragging Kurt into all this.

_“Skyfall is where we start... a thousand miles and poles apart... where worlds collide and days are dark. You may have my number, you can take my name, but you’ll never have my heart... Let the sky fall...”_

“Is it time for the switch yet?” Kurt whispered.

“Not yet,” Blaine replied. “Just a little longer so we can get closer to midnight.”

_“Where you go I go. What you see I see. I know I’d never be me without the security of your loving arms keeping me from harm. Put your hand in my hand and we’ll stand...”_

Crawford’s voice started buzzing in his ear.

_“I didn’t mean for it to get that far, how was I supposed to know that the handcuffs would dislocate his arm? I’ve never had that problem before.”_

Blaine blinked down at Kurt who was looking at him curiously. He reached into his pocket and took out the remote, pressing rewind. The feed went back towards the beginning. He pressed play.

_“And the tattoo?”_

_“To cover the scars. I ordered a fake ID.”_

_“Why an octopus?”_

_“Are you kidding me?”_

_A scream._

_“Fuck! They’re smart and adaptable and adorable what more could you fucking want from life?”_

_“Where’s the Crown?”_

_“I don’t know.”_

_“I know that Anderson has it now. Where did he put it?”_

_“I don’t know!”_

_A yelp._

_“Please stop, please I don’t know where it is--”_

_“Well what do you know?”_

_“Blaine’s mobilizing tomorrow. Red Queen is coming for the Crown at the casino.”_

_“Excellent. I’ll inform M.”_

_“How did you know?”_

_“Know what?”_

_“That Blaine has the Crown right now.”_

_“There’s a hack dot on his computer.”_

_“That’s not possible, he would have noticed it.”_

_“Not a flat one with a camouflage back. I’ve been reading all of your little Black Queen, White Rook conversations.”_

_“What...What happens to me next?”_

_“Prison. And your father’s garage will probably be put out of business personally and he’ll be charged with association, considering that the Crown was presumedly residing within his residence for a time.”_

_“What?”_

_“Unless...you cooperate more and help us bring in Anderson. Do that, and you’re free to go.”_

_“So I just have to...betray Blaine.”_

_“He’s a traitor to Britain, Kurt. And you know that he’s been using you this entire time. You’d be doing yourself and everyone else a service. Just help us find him tonight and bring him in, then you’re in the clear.”_

_“But he’s...I can’t just...”_

_“Why? I don’t understand, why did you even help him in the first place.”_

_“He helped me. Some jocks were harassing me and he threw them off me. And he...he cared and he made me feel wanted and...desirable and... No one’s ever made me feel like that before.”_

_The unmistakable sound of a gun uncocking and then a kiss. A pause._

_“No. I-I can’t, it’s just--”_

_“Shhh. Let me show you what feeling wanted is really like.”_

_Another kiss. Whimpers. Loud breathing._

_“Wait I--ah!”_

_“Kurt...”_

_“One moment please, I just--my arm--”_

_Movement._

_“No, please! My arm! The handcuffs, please--”_

_Sound being muffled. A low thump._

_“No stop! Stop! STOP!”_

_CRACK._

_A scream._

“Blaine?” Kurt stared at him. They’d stopped dancing about a minute earlier. “Blaine, what’s wrong?”

Blaine looked at Kurt before pushing away from him, drawing his Walther from the holster in his suit jacket and heading straight for 005.

Fuck the plan. Adam Crawford needed to die.


	5. Chapter 5

(Cover art by Ripaille on tumblr)

**Chapter 5:**

_Blaine leaned against the locker smoothly, adopting a charming smile._

_Kurt looked over at him from where he was piling books from his locker into his arms. “Hello Blaine.”_

_“Devon, actually,” Blaine smiled. “Blaine’s just a middle name.”_

_“I thought Devon was your middle name,” Kurt said lightly, closing his locker. “And then Anderson your last name and Cooper your brother’s name.”_

_Blaine blinked in surprise. “What?”_

_“I hacked your file,” Kurt smiled as he turned to walk down the hall. “Don’t worry, 007. Your secret’s safe with me.”_

_The mention of the three numbers that he thought he’d certainly never hear in America unless from an enemy agent caused the hairs on the back of his neck to prickle as he reached into his jacket._

_“I’m not a threat, Blaine,” Kurt said calmly, back still turned as he walked away. “There’s no need to pull that out, especially with such a high risk of civilian casualties.”_

_Blaine let go of the holster and quickened his pace until he fell in step with Kurt. “Hardly. I’m a much better shot than that.”_

_“I know.” Kurt’s lips curved as he continued to stare ahead. “I read your file, remember? Glad to know that I was right about Glasgow.”_

_“How did you do that, by the way?” Blaine frowned. “Last I checked, my filed was sealed from even the highest levels of MI6.”_

_“Child’s play,” Kurt shrugged. “If it can be accessed by a computer, I can find it.”_

_“Is that so?” Blaine smirked._

_Kurt stopped, turning to him with an arched eyebrow. “You should see the correspondences between Princesses Brittany of Wales and Santana of Spain. Speaking of which, where exactly did you hide the Crown?”_

_Blaine was silent as he reassessed Kurt as a potential threat._

_“Don’t worry,” Kurt smiled. “I was just interested, so I dug a little deeper. I must say, you have honorable intentions.”_

_“Anything for queen and country,” Blaine said dryly, body still tensed._

_“Allegiance,” Kurt nodded. “I like that. It’s a good trait.”_

_“One that’ll probably get me into trouble one day,” Blaine grinned, offering his arm._

_Kurt took it, eyes calculating as they continued to walk down the hall, now to the sounds of gossipy whispers. “And it hasn’t already?”_

_“Well, you know what they say. You only live twice,” Blaine shrugged._

_“Our hobbies can’t all be resurrection,” Kurt rolled his eyes._

_“Nor hacking into international databases,” Blaine shot back._

_Kurt smiled at him curiously, appraising him behind his glasses. “Tell me, 007...do you play chess?”_

***

“Blaine!” 

Blaine didn’t listen as he clicked off the safety on his Walther, weaving through dancers and making a beeline for Crawford.

“Blaine!” Kurt grabbed his right wrist and yanked him around, his other hand grabbing at the gun and holding it against his stomach.

“Kurt, let go,” Blaine snapped, trying to twist his hand away with minimal injury to Kurt, but he held fast. 

“No,” Kurt said calmly. “You can either break my wrist, shoot me, or give me the gun.”

“None of those are an option,” Blaine said, stepping close to hide what was between their bodies from the other dancers. 

“Then calm. Down.” Kurt gritted between his teeth. “What the hell has gotten into you? We have to stick to the plan--”

“Why didn’t you tell me what really happened with your arm?” Blaine demanded, his other hand coming up to grip the wrist that held his, in case he needed to break Kurt’s grip.

Kurt blinked. “It got pulled too--”

“It was dislocated from being handcuffed too far back,” Blaine cut him off.

Kurt licked his lips. “Well, that’s not exactly how it happened--”

“Regardless. Crawford needs to go.”

“And how exactly are you going to get past Smythe?” Kurt snapped, cutting his eyes across the floor.

Blaine turned, following his gaze.

Shit.

“Looks like backup came early,” Blaine sighed.

“The switch--”

“We can’t now,” Blaine shook his head. “It’ll draw too much attention to Santana, and I doubt they know she’s here at all.” He glanced over at the stage where Santana had finished and was coming off. “No, we need to get them away from her before they realize...”

Kurt licked his lips nervously, eyes darting around. “I’ll create a diversion. Draw them off--”

Blaine leaned forward and kissed him, hand releasing Kurt’s wrist in favor of coming up to grip the back of his neck instead. Then he used the distraction to slip the Walther from Kurt’s grasp. “Do me a favor darling, and don’t tell them where the Crown is,” he whispered against Kurt’s lips before darting sharply to the left. 

He ignored Kurt’s half-gasp of his name as he headed for the door, drawing the agents posted throughout the room towards him like flies. He fast-forwarded the feed back to current time and listened in. 

_“Anderson’s on the move. We take him now.”_

Blaine smiled. Excellent.

He headed for the doors, grabbing an agent’s arm and breaking it swiftly as it tried to impede him. Slipping into the hall he spotted a window and headed towards him.

“There he is! Get him!”

Rolling his eyes, he whipped and shot twice, blowing out two kneecaps before jumping up, crashing backwards through the window and somersaulting down into an easy landing as he brushed the shards of glass off of himself.

“Smashing,” he commented dryly before smoothly walking across the parking lot to his Harley.  

He heard shots as he mounted it and cranked the engine, taking off. Clicking up the volume on the feed, he listened in. 

_“Send cars after him!”_

_“Crawford, we don’t even know where he’s headed, we should see if Q--”_

_“Can it, Smythe--Kurt? What are you--”_

Blaine hissed as the feed went crackly briefly, and then Kurt’s voice came on full blast.

_“Look! Blaine planted this on you when he gave me my drink. He’s been listening in!”_

“Kurt, where are you going with this?” Blaine muttered as he zigzagged between cars down the highway.

_“We should destroy it.”_

_“No, I can trace the signal on it to his location and we can grab him.”_

_“Excellent, Kurt. Let’s move out. What do you need?”_

_“Just a laptop...”_

Blaine ripped the mic out of his ear.

Kurt was buying him time. He’d send the agents on a goose chase while Blaine got away. It was the perfect plan. 

Except...

Except...

Except they still had Kurt. 

And the sound of his scream from his shoulder being dislocated was still echoing in his ears.

Blaine pulled a sharp U-turn, heading back to the casino.

The agents were out front, about to load Kurt into a car when he returned, easily jumping off of his bike and letting it crash into one of the cars, the explosion framing him nicely as he stared the group down with a bored expression.

“I forgot to cash in my chips.”

***

Six hours later and some-thousand feet up in the air, Blaine and Kurt kneeled side by side in the cabin of an uncharted aircraft, handcuffed. 

“You were suppose to look after Santana,” Blaine sighed, flexing his wrists uncomfortably, twisting the heart pin that Kurt had wriggled over his way into his handcuffs as he attempted to pick the lock.

“And you were supposed to drive off to safety,” Kurt snapped, giving off a huff of frustration. “Not do some ostentatious play at a rescue mission for me.”

“Yeah well, live and let die,” Blaine murmured. “I wasn’t about to let you get dragged into another unfavorable situation again.”

“It wouldn’t have been like last time,” Kurt glared. “I’d convinced them to get me a laptop, I would have been completely safe.”

“Would you have been safe against the gun they would have shot you with when I wouldn’t have shown up?” Blaine fired back.

“You’d be surprised how much coding Q Branch puts into those guns you all carry...” Kurt’s voice trailed off as Crawford approached the two of them, steps measured. 

“So,” Crawford stared down at them, contempt rolling off him in waves. “You two.”

“Oh, are we a ‘two’ now?” Blaine asked lightly, raising an eyebrow.

“It does have a nice ring to it,” Kurt nodded in appreciation.

“Remind me how we’re supposed to get out of this one again?” Blaine gazed sideways at him.

“We could flip the chessboard,” Kurt shrugged.

Blaine grimaced. “Too inelegant and messy.”

“Rook corner cross?” Kurt tried again.

Blaine considered briefly. “Yeah, but it’d be ten times easier if you had like...an iPhone or something.”

“That’s true,” Kurt sighed. “Actually all of these would be easier if I just had a damn laptop.”

“Where’s the Crown?” Adam asked exasperatedly. 

“Really?” Sebastian snorted, walking through the aisle of seats to the back. “You’re still going with that method, Crawford? We’re over British soil, you don’t have to worry about American regulations for the welp.” 

“I don’t like you,” Kurt said plainly.

“The feeling’s mutual,” Sebastian cut back dryly. 

“Alright, fine,” Crawford sighed, drawing his gun and placing it to Kurt’s head. “Anderson, where’s the Crown.”

Kurt rolled his eyes, glancing over to Blaine. “See? If you’d let me actually get my hands on the laptop, this would never have happened.”

“Sure darling,” Blaine rolled his eyes in turn. “Sure.”

“Jesus, they’re like an old married couple,” Sebastian grimaced. “How disgusting.”

“King’s Guard,” Kurt said suddenly, eyes widening.

“What?” Blaine turned to him with a frown. 

“King’s Guard,” Kurt replied. “Remember...?”

“Oh. OH.” Blaine grinned, nodding. “Yeah, I think that’ll work.” He cleared his throat and turned to Crawford, mock-contrite. “I’ll tell you where the Crown is.”

“Really?” Crawford raised an eyebrow. “Somehow I doubt I’ll believe you.”

“Well you have a gun pointed at my beloved,” Blaine sighed dramatically. “I really have no other choice.”

“Your beloved?” Crawford snorted. “Similar to all the rest of our other ‘beloved’s in the past?”

“Not precisely,” Blaine’s voice went steely. “I tend to avoid dislocation and the unwilling.”

Adam’s smile turned cold. “And what makes you think he was unwilling?”

“The audio,” Blaine shot back. Kurt tensed next to him and Blaine realized his slip-up.

Crawford blinked, gun turning to Blaine. “What--”

Kurt shot up, grabbing Crawford’s wrist sharply, hands now free of cuffs.

The lock finally clicked on Blaine’s and he sighed in relief as he rolled over, kicking up at Sebastian sharply, who was trying to draw his own gun. He jumped up and pulled his Walther from inside Crawford’s jacket, shoving him back into Sebastian and hitting his wrist so that he released his gun into Kurt’s hand. 

Sebastian drew his gun as Kurt and Blaine backed against the wall of the cabin. 

Blaine smoothly handed the heart pin over to Kurt. “Here’s your heart back dear.”

“Thank you darling,” Kurt replied, tucking it into his pocket. 

“This is pointless,” Crawford glared. “We can’t fire bullets in here, they’d rip through the walls.”

Kurt smiled at him sweetly. “Precisely.”

Sebastian realized it first and tackled Crawford to the floor as Kurt and Blaine open-fired across the cabin all around until the screech of metal folding in on itself filled the aircraft. 

Two odd popping noises. The pilots ejected. 

Blaine ducked as Crawford threw a punch at him, and the plane went into free fall.

Kurt dove under a seat to grab a parachute and met Sebastian who was doing the same. They grappled for the two until Sebastian got fed up and pushed forward with a knife. There was a sick sound of flesh getting cut.

Blaine looked over to see the knife high up in Kurt’s left shoulder. “Kurt!” 

Kurt grabbed the knife and threw it at Sebastian, who managed to raise up his arm in time to get it imbedded in his right forearm.

Kurt wrangled his parachute pack on himself and looked for another one.

The plane tipped at that point and started spiraling. 

Blaine slammed into the ceiling and then a couple of seats. He reached out to grab at Kurt, glancing around to see Crawford and Sebastian both coming towards them.

Blaine sighed, moving forward to kiss Kurt’s face. “You’re going to have to catch me, darling.”

Kurt blinked in surprise. “What--” His eyes widened. “Blaine, no, don’t you dare--”

Blaine pushed him out of the plane.

He turned, firing his last three shots at Crawford and Sebastian, hoping that’d be enough to distract them before jumping out after Kurt.

It’d been two years since he’d last jumped from an airplane without a chute, but he’d also had three other agents who did have one, so he’d held some modicum of comfort. But diving out and straightening his body so he’d make it to Kurt...

It was terrifying and filled his entire body with adrenaline. 

He loved it.

Kurt was quickly spotted, stark white against the dark expanse of England below, falling spread-eagle, just like Blaine had told him earlier. 

Blaine stretched out his arms, hoping he wouldn’t leave too many bruises.

Impact.

Hugging Kurt around the middle, they started falling faster and faster.

“I hate you!” Kurt screamed into his ear. “I hate you I hate you I hate you so much!”

“I love you too, darling!” Blaine yelled. “Now pull your chute!” 

Kurt yanked down on the string multiple times.

“Pull it!”

“I can’t!”

Blaine shoved his hand aside and yanked down on it, to no avail as they continued to fall, the ground approaching much too fast for comfort. 

“This may end with us dying in each other’s arms!” Blaine yelled over the air rushing past them as the ground approached quickly. 

“No. It. Won’t!” Kurt screeched, yanking on the lever until they were both yanked back and the shoot expanded. 

Thirty seconds later, they hit the ground hard, tangled up in the material of the parachute, on wet grass.

“Well,” Blaine commented after a minute of them just panting. “Looks like we’re going to die another day.”

Kurt managed a glare at him before he pressed his face back against the cool English soil. 


	6. Chapter 6

(Cover art by Ripaille on tumblr)

**Chapter 6:**

_Blaine crushed the cigarette underfoot and emerged from the bleachers, aware that three teachers saw him doing so, and he felt secure that his “juvenile delinquent” status would be circulated around campus by the end of the day. The gossip mill at McKinley was truly atrocious._

_“Solidifying your image?”_

_He turned to see Kurt leaning against the brick side of the building, holding his laptop in both hands and wearing a very fetching pink and gray ensemble._

_“You do know that the whole bad boy trope died out in America somewhere around the 90s, right?”_

_Blaine leaned next to him on the wall. “And what would you propose that I try instead?”_

_Kurt shrugged, angling his body towards Blaine. “Well, there’s always hipsters. Or jocks. Or musical theater enthusiasts....”_

_“I’m here on her majesty’s secret service. I just need a cover. But...which one are you?” Blaine replied, leaning in closer as well. He was familiar with this game._

_“The boy who knows everything,” Kurt smiled._

_“Apparently not how to beat me in chess,” Blaine countered, face edging in._

_Kurt’s smile dropped for a second, before it came back full force. He pressed a hand to Blaine’s chest, dragging it down. “Perhaps not...but I do know where the Crown is...”_

_His hand dove into Blaine’s jacket and Blaine snatched up his wrist, slamming it into the brick wall above his head and pressing him against it with his body, hand coming up against Kurt’s throat in warning. “Don’t touch my gun.”_

_“So that is where the Crown is,” Kurt grinned, seemingly unconcerned at the threat that was being held against him. Literally. “I knew it’d be in the one place you wouldn’t let people get to. Let me guess--there’s a latch in the bottom where you can hide it?”_

_Blaine’s jaw tensed as he considered the amount of threat that Kurt held._

_“Pretty secure, considering it’s the one thing you won’t let anyone else here get their hands on...” Kurt leaned closer until their noses were touching at the tips. “But what about when MI6 sends an agent after you. Are you so sure that you’ll be able to keep track of your gun then?”_

_Blaine’s grip on Kurt’s wrist tightened._

_“Don’t worry,” Kurt said quietly. “I didn’t tip them off.”_

_“Then how do you know?” Blaine asked, considering his options for running again._

_“Hacked their databases,” Kurt replied easily. “There’s coding in your Walther. They’re able to track you down. So really, no matter where you run, as long as you have the Crown in that gun of yours, it’ll be easily tracked.”_

_Blaine flexed his jaw._

_“Well,” Kurt amended. “They used to, anyways.”_

_“What do you mean?”_

_“I canceled out the signal. Made it look like the gun was crushed, and I rerouted the signal to Westerville. It was the best I could do without getting the actual coding directly from the gun.”_

_Blaine blinked, fingers loosening around Kurt’s wrist and neck. “Why would you do that?”_

_Kurt smiled. “No one’s stalemated with me in chess before. I want you around long enough to find out how you did that.”_

_Blaine lips curved up in response. “Tell me Kurt...do you play poker?”_

***

“This would’ve worked better with a bit of planning,” Kurt sighed.

“We were flying. I had to approximate. And we only had to walk three miles,” Blaine rolled his eyes as he hooked the lock, popping the door open easily and quickly diving below the wheel to disable the alarm.

“Yeah, after hitting the ground with enough impact to bruise literally everything,” Kurt muttered, shifting his shoulder uncomfortably, a wad of cloth stuck in the incision that Sebastian’s knife had made.

Glancing back over to him, Blaine frowned upon seeing the stained fabric. “Are you sure that’s alright?”

“It’s fine,” Kurt sighed. “Most of the flesh has been long-damaged, so it’s really nothing new. I should just get to a hospital at some point within the next twelve hours.” He prodded at his upper left side with a grimace, wincing as it produced more blood. “I am mad about the tattoo though. I’ll have to get Quinn to fix it later.” He leaned back over the engine and frowned. “I hate the UK. Everything’s backwards here.”

“Don’t insult my motherland,” Blaine grumbled as he hot-wired the car. 

“Ha!” Kurt cried in triumph, holding up something metal before throwing it into the sink. “Tracker gone. We’re unlisted.”

“Excellent,” Blaine grinned as he enabled the controls and pressed the one to pull the convertible roof back. “Get in darling.”

Kurt giggled and hopped over the door into the passenger’s seat, buckling in. “Seriously though, what is it with you and Aston Martins?”

Blaine smiled blissfully as he pulled down the ignition. “Oh, you’ll see.”

They took off down the English countryside, wind blowing through both of their hair as they sped through the dark at highly illegal speeds, laughing giddily as they made a beeline towards London. 

***

_Blaine didn’t go to most of his classes, instead enjoying a cup of drip down at the local coffee shop while admiring the black graphic tee he was wearing._

_The night prior, he’d challenged Kurt to a round of strip poker and once he’d gotten the teenager down to his knickers, Kurt had insisted upon using his entire (admittedly extensive) closet._

_Blaine had raided the things from it that he could actually wear first and had one over six pairs of black jeans, twelve tee shirts, a raggedy black cardigan, and a clockwork bow tie that he’d just liked in particular._

_He’d lost nothing himself._

_Kurt had let him leave with everything, muttering something about strip chess._

_Blaine found himself smiling at the memory before he caught himself, lips setting back into a scowl. He drained his coffee and prepared to leave, pausing at the counter._

_After a moment’s consideration, he ordered a grande non-fat mocha for Kurt. He was excellent at ordering drinks for others._

_Upon arriving back at school, the hairs on the back of his neck prickled and he set the coffee down in his locker, fingers itching to reach for his Walther. Instead, he continued down the empty halls, wondering why he was so on edge, until he heard something hit a row of lockers_ **_hard_ ** _._

_Rounding the corner to raucous laughter, he came a cross a handful of jocks from the hockey team shoving one of the students back._

_It was Kurt._

_Two of the jocks held him tight, laughing as another dug through Kurt’s bag._

_“I told you!” Kurt huffed in frustration as he tried to wriggled out of the double hold that was around him. “I don’t have any money!”_

_“But you have a laptop,” the one digging through his backpack grinned, pulling it out. “And I’m sure we could get a couple hundred for this, right boys?”_

_“No.” The color drained from Kurt’s face. “Put that down.”_

_“Or what?” the leader smirked._

_Kurt thrashed wildly. “Put that down or I swear to god I will ruin all of your families’ credit! I will ensure that you fail every school grade that there is, I will bar all of your credit cards, I will destroy all of you--”_

_He was cut off by the leader punching him in the gut._

_Blaine didn’t act. He merely reacted._

_He strode down the hall and wrenched one jock off of Kurt, easily throwing him into the lockers and knocking him out. Then the next, dodging a punch from him before bringing his foot up and kicking him hard under the chin. He turned to the leader who was staring at him in shock._

_“Put the laptop down,” he said calmly._

_He dropped the laptop, causing Kurt to screech slightly before diving for it, so that he could attempt to fight Blaine._

_Blaine just smiled. He loved it when they were stupid. He dodged both blows easily before grabbing his arm and swinging his body around into the lockers, hard. The he grabbed his right and sharply. “Don’t.” He broke a finger. “Ever.” Another. “Touch.” A third. “Kurt.” A fourth. “Again.” The pinky. “Or.” Next hand, first finger. “His.” Second. “Laptop.” Third. “Are.” Fourth. “We.” Other pinky. “Clear?”_

_“Yes!” the hockey player sobbed, writhing against the lockers. “Yes, please!”_

_“Good,” Blaine said easily, slamming his head back against the lockers and smiling at the satisfying cracking noise it made. He brushed off his jeans and turned to Kurt, who was still on the ground from the dive for his laptop, which he’d managed to save. “Are you alright?”_

_“Yes...” Kurt said, getting to his feet and looking at the incapacitated hockey players with wide eyes. “You just...”_

_“I’ll tell whoever I have to answer to that they touched my laptop,” Blaine rolled his eyes, offering an arm for Kurt. “But now I believe we have glee club.”_

_Kurt took his arm. “We’re just going to leave them here?”_

_Blaine turned back with a disparaging glance. “Honestly. They’re not really as bad as they’re cracked up to be.”_

_Kurt snorted at the pun before smiling broadly. He leaned over and gave Blaine a peck on the cheek. “Thank you for standing up for me. It’s nice to have the support.”_

_“You’re quite welcome,” Blaine said in surprise as the walked down the hall towards the choir room. “You know, Mr. Hummel, you always zig when I think you’re about to zag, and I just...I love that about you.”_

_***_

They were about an hour out from London and everything was incredibly still.

Kurt had yet to crack open the laptop that they’d swiped from the MI6 hoard along with the car, and his seat was tilted back as he gazed up at the stars.

Blaine glanced over at him every few seconds and he knew how much in trouble he was.

Kurt...he had no idea when, but Kurt had gradually inked himself into his skin like a tattoo--well, literally as well considering he’d been the one to take him to Quinn and get the chess piece permanently placed on his shoulder blade--and had curled up and stayed there. 

He knew it’d happened sometime after he’d given him a key to his apartment but...

Glancing over at Kurt, he sighed. He’d often considered taking Kurt to England, driving together through the countryside once this blasted mission was over in his reclaimed Aston Martin that was locked down somewhere in Q Branch, getting him coffee and actually using his flat for once. 

Looking back at the road, towards London, he forced himself to be realistic. There was only one ending that this mission had and he saw it coming even from across the Atlantic. He just had to make sure that Kurt was far enough away from it all when it did. 

But, in the meantime, he could drive and Kurt could smile and they could both pretend.

***

_The first thing he noticed was the lock. It had been picked. Expertly and with little to no damage, but he knew what a picked lock looked like and his was picked._

_He nudged the door open, drawing his Walther._

_The light in the kitchen was on and there was movement._

_Rounding the corner sharply, he aimed, ready to fire before sighing, holstering his gun again. “Kurt.”_

_“Blaine,” Kurt trilled back sweetly as he stirred the fluffy pink mixture in the bowl._

_Blaine groaned, rubbing his face. “What are you doing here?”_

_“Making souffles!” Kurt smiled, wiping a streak of crushed strawberry off his temple._

_Blaine tried to feel mad, but he couldn’t, mainly because Kurt looked so damned adorable and he was torn between wanting to sweep forward and kiss him until he tasted strawberries on his tongue, or bending him over his kitchen counter and fucking him until he forgot the first hundred digits of pi._

_Both actually. Both sounded good._

_He did neither though, instead rolling up his sleeves and helping Kurt cook with an exasperated sigh, acting much more peeved than he actually was._

_The next day at school, he pressed a key to Kurt’s palm as the passed in the hallways._

_***_

_“Your water pressure is terrible,” Kurt wrinkled his nose as he emerged from the bathroom wearing only one of Blaine’s white dress shirts. Blaine raised his eyebrows at the shirt and Kurt rolled his eyes. “You have all of my pajamas by now, so unless you’d like to fork them over...”_

_“No,” Blaine grinned, leaning back against his headboard. “I daresay that you look quite fetching in that.”_

_Kurt muttered something about idiot spies before climbing into the bed as well, perching his glasses on his nose and taking out his laptop, typing away._

_Blaine leaned over and rubbed his hand down Kurt’s chest, kissing at his neck._

_“What are you doing?” Kurt asked flatly, still typing._

_Blaine paused, suddenly unsure. “Having a bit of fun?”_

_Kurt stopped typing and looked over at Blaine, slightly amused. “Blaine...I came to spend the night because Rachel’s staying the night at mine and I really don’t want to hear her and Finn at all hours of the night, not because I wanted to sleep with you.”_

_“Ah,” Blaine nodded, sliding away and feeling slightly sore. Everyone wanted to sleep with him. It was apart of his appeal. He wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself now, in this situation._

_“Stop pouting,” Kurt admonished lightly. “Don’t you want to see the schematics I’ve drawn up for your Walther so I can make modifications, if necessary?”_

_Blaine lit up and scooted close next to Kurt, beaming as he listened to him prattle on._

_***_

_One night, Blaine awoke to screaming and thrashing and Kurt was next to him, clutching his left side and crying into the pillow. Blaine shook him awake and held him while Kurt quietly told him about the night he’d had to get surgery._

_***_

_Another night, he awoke to Kurt crouching over him, clutching a bloody nose._

_Blaine shot up in bed, ignoring the tears in his own eyes as he expected it diligently, guilt creeping up through him in droves._

_“It’s fine,” Kurt murmured thickly with a smile. “I should know better than to try and wake a trained killer who’s having a nightmare.”_

_“I’m sorry--”_

_“Honestly, it’s okay,” Kurt said, reaching his clean hand over to pat at Blaine’s hair. “I think you’re in worst shape than I am.”_

_“I’ll go sleep on the couch,” Blaine muttered, attempting to leave the bed, but Kurt pulled him back._

_“No, come here.” He opened his arms wide and it was too late and Blaine was too tired so he crashed into them._

_“Tell me about Budapest,” Kurt whispered._

_Blaine did, and he slept the rest of the night without nightmares._

_***_

“Okay, I fixed both of our guns,” Kurt muttered, eyes glued to the laptop. “God, the Q Branch computers are so much easier to hack into from this side of the ocean. Anyways, they’ll only fire with our palm prints because I wrote them into the code.”

“Have I ever told you how amazing you are?” Blaine said suddenly.

Kurt looked up in surprise. “Um...no, actually.”

“Well you are. You’re absolutely incredibly fantastically amazing.”

Kurt stared at him before looking away sharply, his face turning slightly red. “Well...thank you, Blaine.” He went back to typing.

Blaine just smiled. 

There was no way that he couldn’t have fallen in love with Kurt.

***

_Kurt crashed through his bedroom door, soaking wet in his mint and lavender ensemble._

_“Kurt?” Blaine stood, crossing over to him. “Kurt, what’s wrong?”_

_“I just...” Kurt paced back and forth, wringing his fingers frantically. “I don’t know what to do, I mean I do, but I don’t want to--”_

_“Kurt, are you okay?” Blaine grabbed ahold of his shoulders. “Why weren’t you in glee club? I tried messaging you.”_

_“I know, I’m sorry,” Kurt said, tears springing to his eyes. “It’s just...I don’t want to, but if I don’t you’ll...” he trailed off, staring at Blaine with wide eyes, shaking all over.”_

_“Come on,” Blaine murmured, pushing him towards the bathroom. “Let’s get you dried off and then we can talk.”_

_“No,” Kurt whispered. Instead, he leaned forward and kissed Blaine on the lips, clutching his hair desperately._

_It wasn’t their first kiss. That had been when Blaine had taught Kurt how to make a proper martini and they’d both gotten a bit tipsy and Blaine had leaned forward to kiss him. It was off-center and Kurt had pulled back with a wrinkled nose and a giggle before hiccuping and tapping his nose, muttering “Bad boy.” before dissolving into laughter and they’d never brought it up again._

_But this time, Kurt’s intent was extremely clear as he pushed Blaine back towards the bed, tugging at the jumper that Blaine had pulled on when he’d gotten home._

_Blaine pulled back, confused at the sudden change between them. “Kurt, what--”_

_“Please.” Kurt covered Blaine’s mouth with the tips of his fingers, blinking back tears. “Please could you just...be you for tonight? Please?”_

_Blaine stared at him before nodding slowly, dropping the American accent and the odd way he’d held himself to make him seem younger, and he reached up to rake his fingers through his hair so that it had some semblance of tidiness and he pulled out all of his piercings. He gently pulled Kurt’s glasses off and put them down on the nightstand before turning back to him, bared of all his shields. He cupped Kurt’s face gently and leaned forward to kiss him._

_It was warm and soft and slightly salty and Kurt cracked, shuddering and crying and Blaine would have pulled back if Kurt hadn’t latched onto him, refusing to let go. So instead, he clutched him just as tight and together they fell down onto the bed._

_It went on for hours. Kurt’s inquisitive mind left no stone unturned in the intimate department. But the best part was when Kurt’s constant stream of commentary cut off and he just let himself_ **_feel_ ** _._

_And later, when Kurt asked Blaine to pretend to be his, he didn’t have to pretend at all._

***

They’d just hit downtown when Kurt swore under his breath.

“We have company,” Kurt muttered, glancing out of his rearview mirror at the eight black cars tailing them.

Blaine sighed. “Knew that would happen. We still have to get north of the Thames before we’re anywhere near Buckingham...”

A bullet was shot into his rearview mirror.

“Well that’s unfortunate,” he muttered.

“Maybe a convertible wasn’t the best idea,” Kurt grumbled.

“No, it was perfect,” Blaine grinned. “Take the wheel, darling.”

Without warning, he hopped over to the back seat, flipping onto his knees, and shot at the three cars that were directly behind him. The car lurched violently as Kurt grabbed at the wheel with a screech and they went careening down an alley, thinning the cars out. 

“See? You’re great!” Blaine laughed as they knocked into a dumpster before careening on.

“Everything’s backwards!” Kurt yelled. 

They took a sharp right out of the alley into oncoming traffic before Kurt fishtailed them down the other side of the street.

“Where do I go?” Kurt shouted.

“Head straight for five more blocks then take a right for three!” Blaine yelled back as he shot out the tires on one of the cars, ducking to avoid a spray of fire. “Get down!” 

The windshield shattered and the car swerved again, over the sidewalk and through a large underground walkway. 

“Move move move!” Kurt yelled as civilians jumped out of the way and they shot through, emerging on the other side.

“Where now?” 

Blaine blinked, trying to get his bearings before he saw the wall of cars three blocks down, and two more in heavy pursuit.

It was one of those split decisions that are always made with little-to-no thought, but just seem so right in that very moment.

“Kurt.”

Kurt turned to look back at him and Blaine kissed him suddenly, pressing his Walther into his palm. 

“Get yourself out,” Blaine whispered against his lips. “And get the Crown to Buckingham palace.”

Kurt stared at him and opened his mouth, but Blaine yanked the steering wheel so that it took a sharp right before running out the back of the car, jumping out before it turned down the narrow alleyway. 

He walked smoothly into the street, and it was the weirdest thing, but the current week’s glee club assignment suddenly popped into his head: Revelations. 

Despite his eye roll at the memory of Will Schuester writing it on the board, the lyrics to the song he’d picked out regardless started echoing through his head.

_Well I would swim but the river is so wide_

_And I’m scared I won’t make it to the other side_

_And God knows I’ve failed, and he knows that I’ve tried_

Three cars skidded as they pulled up around him and four others joined quickly. Lights shined on him and a dozen or so guns were pointed in his direction. He raised his hands above his head.

_I long for something that’s safe and warm_

_But all I have is all that is gone_

_I’m as helpless and as hopeless as a feather on the Clyde._

Kurt made his knees go weak, and there’d been a couple of late night giggles over the teenage boy. He was sweet and funny and blunt and naive and genius and clueless and of course Blaine fell in love with him. There was really no other option.

_Well the sun sets late in Glasgow_

_And the daylight and the city part_

He glanced at the alleyway, a soft smile tugging on his lips. “Run darling,” he murmured. “Run away and don’t look back.”

_And I’ll think of you in Glasgow_

_‘Cause you’re all that’s safe, you’re all that’s warm in my restless heart._


	7. Chapter 7

(Cover art by Ripaille on tumblr)

**Chapter 7:**

Brick walls. Lights. Civilians. Too narrow to turn around goddammit Blaine. Out of the alley. Turn right--no this is London! Left left left!

“I’m going to kill you, Blaine,” Kurt muttered, ignoring the possibility that Blaine could quite possibly already be dead before he turned a sharp U-turn and careened back through the alleyway, teeth gritting as he watched the black cars on the other end race by. Maybe if he hacked into the light grid, he could affect--no, they’d just blow right past, that wouldn’t work. Damn if only they were underground. He’d studied maps of the London underground when he was thirteen, and he was pretty sure that he could navigate them into a--

As soon as he drove through the end of an alleyway, a car rammed into his hard, stunning him briefly as he shot over his car door, hitting the concrete hard.

He pushed his scraped face off of the pavement as he shakily got to his feet, Adam and Sebastian in front of him.

“I swear,” Sebastian sighed at Adam. “Every piece of advice I give you, you take and then turn up to eleven. I said just shoot out one of his tires.”

“I’m tired of playing games,” Adam said bluntly, staring down at Kurt. 

Kurt licked his lips quickly, mind racing. “Well that’s too bad,” he said lightly, jutting his hip out defiantly and raising an eyebrow in disdain as he straightened his now-slightly-bent glasses on his nose. “Because that’s all I ever do.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes and Adams jaw clenched. 

“Bring him in.”

***

_“Please,” Kurt whispered against Blaine’s lips, fingers flying quickly to pull at Blaine’s fly. “Please, I need...I need...I--”_

_“Shhh,” Blaine held Kurt’s hands, pulling them both above his head and nuzzling his nose into the crook of Kurt’s jaw gently to calm him down. “What do you need, Kurt?” he whispered into his ear, his five-o’clock shadow scratching with a slightly unpleasant sensation. Kurt reveled in it, wondering how to precisely describe the texture and why it set his nerve endings on edge in such a way, and perhaps it was-- “What do you need?” Blaine whispered again, drawing Kurt’s mind back to focus and even though it was phrased as a question, it was clearly a demand._

_“I need...” Kurt’s breath hitched as Blaine started sucking softly on the crook of his neck, his mind going blank for a brief second. “I need...” No, he couldn’t tell Blaine, that was preposterous. He wouldn’t understand--but part of him hoped he would because it was Blaine and Blaine was-- “I...” No he wouldn’t tell._

_“Tell me,” Blaine demanded, teeth scraping down to the slight bob of Kurt’s throat, and the rough friction there almost felt like a threat but also felt almost-good and definitely felt completely_ **_Blaine_ ** _._

_It came out in a rush. “I need you to stop me thinking.” A high flush crept up Kurt’s cheeks and it could have been just from how quickly the words fell off of his lips, but was probably also because Blaine’s nails had dug briefly into his wrists and he’d liked that perhaps a bit too much._

_Blaine pressed a deep kiss against his throat, nipping slightly before moving up until he was looking Kurt direction in the eye. “As you command.”_

_Kurt definitely liked that way too much._

***

They’d placed him in a large cubed metal room with no windows to speak of. The only door was behind him and guarded by a large man who was armed. Kurt himself was sitting in a chair with a table in front of him, the singular object on the table was a seventeen-inch laptop plugged in with an ethernet cable. He was handcuffed to the chair with two of his own guards standing behind him.

Kurt hated handcuffs. They were actually something he hated with quite a passion. They were for the weak. A person should be able to restrain someone else physically by other means. And why just the hands? If a person’s hands were deadly, there were far more imaginative ways to deal with that. But no, they were just used as a method of restraint when a cell would do far more easily, or just physically restraining them.

A shiver ran down his spine as he remembered Blaine’s fingers comfortably crushing his wrists as he held them over his head, short-circuiting every inch of wiring in Kurt’s brain as he’d shook with pleasure, begging Blaine for just a little bit more, just that last bit to push him over the edge--

***

_It had been an incredibly unorthodox position. But then again, it was also round three._

_Blaine was on his back and he’d pulled Kurt down on top of him, his chest to Kurt’s back as he’d pushed in again, slowly grinding his hips, wrapping both of his legs around Kurt’s calves until he planted his feet on the bed, immobilizing Kurt’s legs, his right hand holding Kurt’s wrists above their heads, stretching his body taut, while his mouth panted hotly over Kurt’s ear and his left hand traced lazily down Kurt’s chest._

_And really it was that moment that Kurt learned that Blaine was ambidextrous and that was just plain cheating._

_“Please,” Kurt gasped out heavily as Blaine’s fingers grazed from nipple to nipple lazily, causing his body to vibrate. “Please, please, please...”_

_“All in good time,” Blaine whispered in his ear before biting under it, digging his fingernails into his wrists and twisting his nipple sharply._

_Kurt’s mind shut off, going completely blank and it was_ **_perfect_ ** _._

***

Kurt shook his head free of the memory, focusing on the situation at hand. 

The laptop was set up with a webcam, showing an empty room on its end.

Kurt waited patiently for the other side to make their move.

Finally, after about an hour, Adam appeared on screen, sitting down.

Kurt didn’t let his nostrils flare as he wanted them to, so instead he flexed his wrists in his handcuffs, wishing desperately for his heart pin, but they’d taken that away along with his two guns when they’d brought him in. 

Still he waited. It would be rude to ask Adam to hurry it along.

“Kurt,” Adam said finally.

“Adam,” Kurt replied easily.

Adam pulled out the two guns he’d taken from Kurt. “First, I’d like you to tell me what you did to these.”

Kurt stared at them lightly without blinking. “It’s amazing the things you can do with technology these days.”

Adam sighed, setting the weapons down. “You’re not making your situation any easier, Kurt.”

“Why don’t you just have Q Branch examine them?” Kurt asked lightly.

Adam’s jaw clenched.

“Ah. They can’t, can they?” Kurt rewarded himself with a small smile for this victory.

Adam clicked a button and the screen split in two. On the right side, Adam. On the left, Blaine was tied to a chair, being relentlessly tortured.

“He won’t tell us where the Crown is,” Adam said conversationally, as if they were discussing the weather. “And we knew he was the last to have it from your correspondences, so he either passed it off to you, or it’s in some secret location back over stateside. Either way, we’ll extract the information from him.”

“I highly doubt that,” Kurt said flatly as he stared at the left side of the screen.

“He might if we show him footage of us torturing you.”

Kurt’s eyes cut back to Adam. “That would be in violation of my citizen status.”

“Not when you’re out of America with no identification to speak of, and also technically an enemy of Great Britain,” Adam fired back.

“Enemy to a country before,” Kurt said lightly. “I think that’s a first. But go ahead if you like, it won’t do you any good. Blaine is unfailingly loyal to a fault. He’ll never give up the location of the Crown.”

“He is unfailingly loyal,” Adam said, leaning forward. “But which is he more loyal to? You, or whatever force drove him to break his oath?”

Britain, Kurt’s mind supplied unhelpfully. Always Britain. Something Kurt could never compete with.

“I told you earlier, Kurt,” Adam plowed forward. “You are a pawn in this. You are completely out of your league and if you don’t make the right move, you will be swiped off the board for good. You need to learn when to keep. Your. Head. Down. Or don’t you remember how you got that bolt in your chest?”

A sweat broke out on Kurt’s palms as the memory washed over him. 

***

_“Hey Hummel!”_

_Kurt rolled his eyes, turning with his hand perched on his hip. “What, Strando?”_

_It was late. Just after midnight and he’d broken into the school computer lab to do some extra encoding on the school’s records to keep him updated on the teachers. He’d been walking home when the drunken neanderthal had called after him._

_Strando stumbled down the sidewalk, bottle in hand. There was a large party two houses down that was currently raging and sporting a couple of his passed out peers on the lawn. Strando pointed at him accusingly. “My grade dropped in history! I know that was your fault!”_

_“Oh honey,” Kurt said, achingly sweet. “You don’t need my help to look stupid.”_

_“Nuh-uh!” Strando growled angrily. “It was at a C minus, and now I’m at an F!”_

_Kurt smirked coldly. “Well maybe you shouldn’t have slushied me while I was wearing that Valentino scarf. I did warn you.”_

_Strando hiccuped. “You’re...you’re gonna get it...”_

_“Oh, I’m terrified,” Kurt drawled, sarcasm dripping off each word._

_“You should be.”_

_His eyes widened and he wheeled around to find two hockey players behind him that he hadn’t priorly seen. Before he could react, they grabbed each of his arms and held him tight._

_“Strando’s our goalie!” one hissed in his ear._

_“He can’t play if he’s failing!”_

_Kurt clenched his jaw as Strando stumbled forward, pulling back his fist and punching Kurt across the face._

_Kurt gasped, temporarily winded, before turning to glare back at Strando. “Is that all you’ve got?”_

_Strando hit him again and Kurt saw stars. When he managed to blink them away, he say that Strando had taken his laptop out of his bag._

_Kurt’s eyes widened in panic. “No.”_

_Strando grinned. “Why are you always on this thing, anyways?”_

_“Look, I’ll put your grade back to normal, just put it down!” Kurt snapped angrily._

_Strando giggled as he held it tauntingly._

_“If it gets damaged, I won’t be able to!” Kurt yelled. “Just put it down!”_

_Strando smiled maliciously before slamming it down on the pavement._

_“No!”_

_And again. And again. Then he started stomping on it, breaking the plastic casing until he was kicking hard drive everywhere._

_Kurt stared in disbelief. “That had all of my files on it. All...all...”_

_“Yeah well--” Strando hiccuped. “Next time, don’t mess with the Strand--”_

_Kurt broke free from the grip around him and launched himself at Strando, hands grabbing around his neck._

_“I’m going to kill you!” he screamed in his face as he clenched his fingers with deadly intent. “That was everything! Everything she taught me and left me! I’m going to kill you! I’m going to kill you! I’m going to kill you!”_

_The other two hockey players snapped out of their shock and grabbed Kurt, pulling him kicking and screaming off of Strando._

_Strando coughed, gasping for breath, before turning back to Kurt in rage, punching him again, but that didn’t stop Kurt’s mindless screaming. So he punched him again and again and again and then he used his other hand, the one with the bottle, and that broke over Kurt’s face. So he shoved it into Kurt’s shoulder, causing Kurt to scream as it ripped back out and then was shoved in again, scraping his collarbone and shoved in again. And again. And--_

***

Kurt’s hands shook in his handcuffs. 

“You were a pawn then, and you’re a pawn now,” Adam said lowly. “So we can torture you and see if Blaine cracks, but if your theory proves true and he doesn’t, rest assured that you are the next option. I know you play cool, but even that facade you put on can’t hide the looks you always throw at Blaine. If he won’t tell us where the Crown is, then he’s useless to us. A disposable agent. And I will torture him until his very last breath or...” He leaned all the way forward. “Until you tell us where the Crown is. It’s really your choice, Kurt.” He sat back in his chair and arched his eyebrow in challenge. 

“Your move.”


	8. Chapter 8

**  
**

(Cover art by Ripaille on tumblr)

**Chapter 8:**

Kurt stared at the image of Blaine and licked his lips, calculating. 

Blaine could last another hour, if his training was any indication, but like hell would Kurt let that happen. 

His eyes cut back to Adam. Adam wanted an answer now, but that didn’t give him enough time to...

Three guards. One at the door. Two behind him. The door most likely didn’t have a manual lock, it’d be encoded. He had to--no, but the guards would see that. He needed something visual, something that could stall, but what what what what--

Oh.

_Oh._

Yes, that would work.

“I need you to pull up some video feed,” Kurt said calmly, making his voice slightly rattled. Good, good, because he’d probably cry soon, so he needed to set up the emotional overlay.

Adam stared back at him dubiously. “Video feed?”

“From the second chess match we played,” Kurt said, flexing his fingers behind him. “I know you were recording.”

He didn’t start, but Kurt could tell that he was surprised. “What for?”

“It’ll help explain where the Crown is,” Kurt said, folding his fingers together behind his back. “Come on, that’s all I’m asking.”

Adam gave a sigh. “Fine.”

Kurt licked his lips in anticipation during the two minutes it took to pull up the video. The screen with Blaine was replaced with the visual of the match between Kurt and Adam. 

Kurt clenched his jaw as he pulled his left thumb out of its socket. “Watch the game closely.” He breathed a sigh of relief when he released that the guards were doing the same and he tried to relax as he pulled his index finger out of its socket as well. It didn’t hurt terribly because the nerve endings in that arm had been fried for a while, but it was still extremely uncomfortable and he quickly slid his hand out of the cuff before pushing them back into their sockets. 

“I already remember how this went,” Adam said impatiently. “You let your emotions get the better of you, which I used against you to win.”

“Wrong,” Kurt said, flexing his left fingers and wincing at the slight ache. “You let your emotions get the better of you, Adam. And it allows you to be played like a fiddle.”

Adam’s eyes flashed. “What are you--”

“You didn’t win that match,” Kurt snapped, his anger rising. “I want that to be very _very_ clear before what happens next. Look at my fingers. You probably thought I was distracted because of Blaine and it was indecision when I touched pieces before deciding to move another, but even though I went into that match with the intention of losing, I wanted to make sure to let you know that I could have beaten you at literally every turn. Look: I touched that bishop before moving the pawn instead. I was going to take your knight and it would’ve been check. You would’ve killed the knight with your rook, I would’ve taken rook and checkmate. Then here I touched the rook before moving the bishop. Rook was going to take queen. King take rook. Knight take pawn. Checkmate. Touched queen then moved king. Queen take rook. Check mate.”

Kurt sat back, in his chair, bitter satisfaction running through him at the look on Adam’s face. Now was the time to act.

He rolled off his chair under the table and dove his hand into his shirt, grabbing the two thin metal supports up by his shoulder and taking them out of his shoulder, uncapping them. A hand reached out to grab him and he stabbed the wrist before sticking the other support in the other guard’s leg. 

He scrambled out from under the table as the guard from the door rushed over and he grabbed his chair and hit him over the head with it, then once again to make sure he was out cold.

The other two guards were less lucky as their bodies convulsed from the poison.

Kurt stood back in front of the laptop, tilting it so that he could see Adam’s confused and outraged face.

“You were right, Adam,” he said quietly, body barely able to contain its rage. “I had been a pawn. But do you know the thing about them? They’re unpredictable. The most unpredictable piece on the board. Because, if they survive long enough, they can become the most powerful.”

He opened his shirt, fingers going over to the eye of his octopus tattoo, and he twisted it, pulling the bolt out of his shoulder. He hit a button on the side and out of the horizontal slit of the pupil shot his USB drive. Smiling coldly, he showed it to Adam. Then he flipped it around to show him the back.

Glittering and unmistakable, despite being pressed against his raw flesh for nearly four days, was the Crown. 

He popped it out of the back of the bolt and put it on his middle finger before slamming the head of the eye into the USB port.

And then he started typing.

“You see, Adam,” he snapped, flying past all the firewalls. “You’ve made a great deal of mistakes when it comes to me.”

He shattered the defenses.  

“You were mistaken to think I was a weak little thing that you could manipulate into telling you where the Crown was while it never even occurred to you that I had it on me for most of the time.”

He smashed through the blocks of code. 

“You were mistaken in not realizing that I knew who you were the entire time. As soon as MI6 decided to send you over, I hacked your files and read up on you, your mannerisms, your history in the field, your psych report. I knew _everything_.”

He was into Q Branch directly.

“You were mistaken because you didn’t know that I was playing you the entire time and moving you whichever way I so desired because you were just so damn easy to manipulate.”

Stretching and squeezing through the network. 

“You were mistaken by thinking that taking Blaine and threatening him to get information out of me was a good idea. Blaine is _mine._ He has me tattooed on his shoulder blade and if you threaten what’s mine, there is nothing I won’t do to tear you to _pieces_.” 

He extended the eight arms throughout the entire online system.

“You were mistaken in taking everything at face value, including those conversations Blaine and I had over our laptops. And you were wrong for assuming who was who, especially since we never actually used names.”

His glare turned malicious as he reached a boiling point. 

“You were mistaken because it never even occurred to you that I am the Black Queen.”

His fingers darted off the keys as he grabbed the screen and leaned his face in close to it so he could stare into Adam’s gobsmacked eyes. 

“But most of all, you made the biggest, _biggest_ , mistake of ever thinking it was okay to lock _me_ in a room with a _laptop_.”

Adam reached for the phone but Kurt simply locked down the phone lines. “Do you know how an octopus kills its prey? Well, first it snatches it up with all of its legs. Eight of them. Like the rows on a chess board.”

He stretched his arms through the Q Branch systems, blocking all access and locking down all their computers. He sealed the locks down on the whole facility.

“Rows A and 1,” he murmured. That portion sealed. “B and 2. C and 3. D and 4. E and 5. F and 6. G and 7. H and 8.” 

Done. All sealed.

“Then,” he continued conversationally, fingers flying across the keyboard. “It paralyzes their prey.”

He froze everything. All networks, so that only he was in control. 

“And then it attacks it with its beak.”

He viciously tore connections across code, shattering years’ worth of digital layers. 

“And then it devours it.”

He infected everything until they weren’t even compatible with their initial servers anymore.

He grabbed the screen at Adam to glare at him again. “You’ve made me very very cross, Mr. Crawford.”

But Adam’s face wasn’t on him, it was over his shoulder.

Kurt turned too late.

The guard he hadn’t poisoned woke up and reached around to stab a knife into his left side.

Kurt sighed, ripping it out before turning and burying it in the side of the guard’s neck. “You should stop trying to attack me on this side,” he muttered, turning back to the screen and hacking into the code on all firearms to disable them unless they matched his or Blaine’s palm prints. “Most of my nerve endings are fried on my left side. Comes in handy if I want to pop my fingers out of their sockets to escape handcuffs.” He glanced back up at Adam. “Or if someone’s trying to torture you by pressing a bolt into your skin and you just have to fake pain in order to give them a somewhat convincing testimony. Or if you hate the feeling of their hands creeping all over you, so you dislocate your arm on purpose to get them the hell off.” 

His nostrils flared briefly as he took a deep breath. “I’ll deal with you later.” He sealed Adam’s screen before diving through the floors, searching for Blaine. “Come on, come on, come on,” he muttered. “Where’s the feed?” He found it and brought it up. 

In the confusion of the systems shutting down and firearms no longer working, Blaine had managed to get free of his own chair and was standing with a gun, on the lookout.

Kurt smiled softly. “That’s my man,” he whispered before routing himself to the speakers in that room. “Blaine.”

Blaine started, then tried to appear calm. “Kurt?”

“You look solid as a spade,” Kurt said, using their security phrase.

“And you’re sharp as a diamond,” Blaine said in reply a small smile creeping on his face. “I thought I told you to get the ring to safety before coming back for me. I know you were captured.”

“It was easier this way,” Kurt shrugged, blinking back sudden tears. Blaine was fine. He would be safe.

“Wanna fill me in what happened?” Blaine said, walking out into the hall as Kurt unlocked the door for him and switched cameras. 

“Oh you know,” Kurt said lightly. “Hacking, dislocation, threats...the usual with me. I took over the network.”

“Kurt we have to get out,” Blaine said urgently. “You may have gotten this branch, but this is now international security. This place is going to be flooded within...half an hour probably--”

“Ten minutes,” Kurt corrected, split-screening to watch the schematics of the building, hopping through all the outside cameras. “They’re here and I can’t hold out long. They’ll get here in five minutes.”

“We need to get out of here,” Blaine said urgently. “Where are you?”

“I’m lighting you a path, hang on...” Kurt wired up a hallway with lights, making sure there were no entities for Blaine to run into, though knowing they wouldn’t be much of a threat when he was armed and they were not. “Just follow the lights, you’ll get right to me.”

Blaine nodded before taking off down the hall. 

Kurt guided him easily through the maze, careful to lead him precariously past any areas that might cause trouble. “You were wrong, by the way,” he muttered.

“What?” Blaine frowned as he rounded another corner.

“It wasn’t...that time we...were together. It wasn’t for practice later with Adam. I mean...” he sighed. “I’d intercepted a message from MI6. They were going to extract you a night early, before we could make the drop. And I just...I knew you’d never tell them where the Crown was and you’d probably die because of it, so I knew if I distracted Adam for at least one night, we could make the deadline, and I could gain his trust. It just seemed...logical...”

He cleared his throat, wiping slightly at his eyes. “But that night before...I wanted my first time to be with you. Not him. That’s why I just kind of...threw myself at you that night.”

“Kurt, you didn’t have to go through that just for me,” Blaine said softly as he ran down another hall.

“Blaine, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to keep you safe,” Kurt said quietly. “And as it turned out, I couldn’t really go through it. I’m not...I know you talk about just turning it off, but I couldn’t because I just kept thinking his hands weren’t yours so I...dislocated my arm.”

“Kurt...” Blaine sighed. “Why did you have to tell me like this? Why couldn’t you just tell me face to face?”

Kurt’s smile was watery. “Push through that door at the end of the hall, and ask me yourself.”

Blaine rushed forward and pushed it open.

Kurt was sure to slam on the locks behind him.

Blaine looked around in confusion before trying the door again. Locked solid. 

“Kurt!” 

Kurt sagged in his chair, wiping his eyes. 

He’d forced Blaine outside.

“Kurt, let me back in!”

“Blaine, they won’t let me go,” Kurt said quietly, routing his voice to the single speaker by that door. “You...you have no idea of the damage that I’ve caused here.”

“Kurt, if you don’t open this door--”

“Blaine, get to Buckingham and sort out the mess that’s been happening. Her Highness is eighteen now. You shouldn’t have any trouble getting her on your side. Don’t worry, I’ll hide the Crown somewhere here.”

“Kurt, I don’t care! Come on, we’ll just run--”

“And they’ll never stop chasing us,” Kurt snapped. “And I know you, Blaine. Your loyalty to Britain is unwavering. You’d never be truly happy away from it, or your job, and we both know that. I won’t force you to pick me!”

“You’re forcing me to pick it!” Blaine yelled back, hammering on the door. 

Kurt tapped a couple of buttons. “Goodbye, Blaine. Please run.”

“K--”

Silence. 


	9. Chapter 9/Epilogue

**  
**

(Cover art by Ripaille on tumblr)

**Chapter 9:**

Kurt tilted back in his chair and popped his bolt back into his chest, angling the Crown on his ring finger--as long as he was going to be taken out, it might as well be in style. He crossed his legs and waited, resting his eyes. 

Twenty minutes later, the door was smashed in and about thirty agents filled the room.

Kurt sighed, opening his eyes in a bored manner. “So uncivilized.”

Adam marched in after them, gun trained specifically onto Kurt.

Kurt stared at it, unimpressed. “Seriously? This is the point we’re at?”

“I’ll give you a choice,” Adam snapped, and his voice had a slightly unhinged edge to it. “You can either hand over the Crown directly or I can shoot you and then pry it off your cold finger.”

“Really?” Kurt frowned. “You’d wait until my finger got cold in order to pry it off? I mean, that’d take at least an hour--”

The muzzle of the gun jabbed against Kurt’s forehead. 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Crawford,” a bored voice drawled as another agent entered the room, pointing his gun at Adam.

Kurt blinked in surprise as he took in Sebastian, eyes glancing up and down. They narrowed. “How long have you known?” 

“Since coming stateside,” Sebastian shrugged. “It all became glaringly obvious when General Karofsky stirred all the fuss in Moscow about his and Princess Santana’s broken engagement.”

Kurt glared. “You stabbed me.”

“You were crashing the plane and leaving me without a parachute,” Sebastian snorted. “Besides you weren’t one of ours and just would’ve been collateral damage. Blaine was the one needed for the Crown.”

“It was in my chest.”

“Yeah well, no one saw that coming.”

“Such a bishop,” Kurt rolled his eyes. “Carving a path of destruction, but always on his own color.” 

“Would someone mind telling me what the bloody hell is going on?” Adam snapped.

“We were betrayed,” Sebastian said evenly. “By a Double-O.”

“Thank you for the obvious,” Adam retorted.

“Not the one you’re thinking,” Sebastian cut across. “008.”

“Weston?” Adam started in surprise.

***

The facts were these.

Agent 008, Brody Weston, had been assigned as bodyguard to her royal highness, Princess Brittany for her seventeenth year until her eighteenth birthday when she would choose a fiance. She would possess the Crown for the whole year, but until she turned eighteen, it was still the property of the royal family, and not hers.

During that year, she fell deeply in love with her royal highness, Princess Santana of Spain and planned to propose to her, upsetting the arranged political engagement that was already in motion between the princess and General Karofsky. The king and queen of Spain, wanting their daughter to be happy as well as seeing it as a far superior arrangement, dissolved the princess’ current engagement in preparation for Brittany inevitably proposing. 

Weston had become involved with the American criminal organization NYADA, particularly with its leader, Cassandra July, and had schemed to abscond with the Crown. He’d manipulated the young British princess under his care into thinking that her family would never accept her if she came out with her intentions to marry another female monarch, thinking that she would entrust him with the Crown for safekeeping while she’d convince her family otherwise.

Instead, she ran off to Spain with every intention of eloping. 

Weston had given false intel that the Spanish had kidnapped Brittany.

MI6, unsatisfied with Weston’s performance since he’d let the princess slip through his fingers, sent Anderson after her.

Upon realizing the real situation, Princess Brittany had begged Blaine to take and hide the Crown and ensure it was safe while her family dealt with the breach of security, knowing the agent to be trustworthy from prior dealings.

Blaine, unsure as to who had been in on Weston’s plot, had gone stateside until the princess’ birthday when the Crown would be rightfully hers and she could marry whomever she’d please. 

***

Kurt blinked in boredom as Sebastian recounted the tale for Carmen, three hours later. He started scratching a pattern into the wood table, ceasing when Agent 004, Jesse St. James, sent him a look.

“This has been a massive breach of security,” she said in a flat, yet utterly terrifying voice. Kurt was slightly inclined to like her for that alone. 

“Yes ma’am,” Sebastian and Adam said in synchronicity. 

“006, you’ve not behaved up to your usual standards and I am displeased.”

Sebastian suppressed a wince. “Yes ma’am.”

“005. You’ve behaved utterly poorly and are stripped of your Double-O status.”

“But ma’am--” 

She silenced him with a look. “You got an American minor involved who’s now single-handedly responsible for possibly one of the biggest security breaches in the history of this organization. And it was you who dragged him unnecessarily from his country and brought the threat to the heart of MI6. You are suspended until further notice.”

Adam’s jaw clenched. “Yes ma’am.”

“Knights,” Kurt snorted. “So predictably irrational.”

Adam sent him a look that could kill.

“And now 008 has disappeared from the radar,” Carmen sat back in her tempered fury. “So unless you’d all like demotions, get these computers running again and if Q Branch hasn’t located him within the week, you’re all fired.”

Kurt popped his elbow out of its socket obnoxiously before pushing it back in with a crack.

Carmen cut her eyes over to him. “Yes, Mr. Hummel?”

“It would only take me like...ten minutes to get them all back online,” Kurt shrugged.

Carmen gave him a cold smile. “Oh, we’re not letting you anywhere near technology again until Weston’s location is found.”

Kurt rolled his eyes. “Well in that case, he and Cassandra July are staying at the Cheshire Hotel in Ontario, Canada.”

Everyone in the room froze.

“How on earth do you know that?” Carmen asked sharply.

“I’ve kept tabs on him since I hacked Blaine’s files. Seriously, he doesn’t move very far.”

Carmen gave him a calculating look. “Leave us,” she barked at everyone else in the room.

Adam looked like he was about to protest, but Sebastian grabbed his arm sharply and they left with the others.

Carmen stared levelly at Kurt. “You’re a very dangerous young man, Mr. Hummel.”

“Only to my enemies,” Kurt replied back measuredly. Carmen wasn’t like Crawford or Smythe or even Blaine on occasions. She knew the game and she knew just which pieces to move. So he played very carefully with her. 

“And who might they be?”

“Those who would cause those I care about harm,” he said with weight, knowing how she’d interpret. 

She leveled back. “You’ve put me in a very difficult situation. Despite your aiding an at-the-time enemy of Britain and hacking into our files from your hometown, your government would still reign hell down on us if they knew what we’d done with one of their citizens. But after your little display earlier today, there isn’t a country in the world that will either want you for their own, or want you killed. Or both.”

They stared at each other for quite some time.

Then Kurt opened his mouth and carefully reiterated, “My enemies are those who would cause those I care about harm.”

Carmen sized him up. “Well then. There’s only one thing we can safely do with you.

***

One week later

***

Blaine stepped off the elevator down into Q Branch, adjusting his cufflinks and smoothing back his hair. 

He’d be reinstated with his Double-O status two days prior and was about to be sent off on a mission to Milan.

The situation with the royal family had resolved itself and he knew that M wanted to move past it as quickly as possible. He couldn’t blame her. It had been a massively embarrassing security breach.

He also knew that he was being sent straight back into the field to deter him from going stateside and finding a certain minor, whom he was positive had been put into witness protection. 

In the end the choice between queen and country hadn’t been his at all. Country had been chosen for him. 

“Don’t look so glum, Blaine. It ruins your attraction.”

Blaine’s jaw flexed but he managed at least a cordial smile as Sebastian fell into step with him. “006.”

“007.”

“Please tell me that Crawford’s still suspended,” he asked as they pushed into the outer rings of the Q offices. 

“For three months,” Sebastian grinned gleefully. “And Weston was grabbed on Monday. St. James brought him in.”

“Good,” Blaine said shortly and Sebastian rolled his eyes. The ground between them would be rocky for at least another month.

Blaine pushed open the door to the inner offices, turning back to frown when Sebastian didn’t join him. “Leaving Chandler alone for once?”

“He was demoted,” Sebastian sighed. “Apparently letting in a security breach causes you to lose your job or something. I’m going to go find him. Go meet our new Q. He’s a terror.” 

Blaine grimaced as he walked through the door into the familiar tech rooms, computers and lab coats everywhere. He headed over towards the large wall-screen that showed the street plans of Milan and he waited to be outfitted for his mission. 

He knew that after the mission he’d have a long time to think about the events of days past, but this was the path that had been chosen for him and he couldn’t afford such frivolous thoughts when he was heading out on mission. His focus was Britain. And Britain alone. 

So he focused and waited, mind perfectly intent on the task ahead.

“007.”

He turned an his mind went blank.

Q leaned against the desk, looking utterly fetching in his narrow grey slacks, white shirt and grey vest that hugged his waist, hair perfectly coiffed and a silver Q pin over his breast. 

A perfectly arched brow raised over an immaculate pair of white glasses.

“I’m your new quartermaster.”

**Epilogue:**

“Oh, just crash through the wall,” Kurt rolled his eyes as he showered hairspray in a hazy mist, checking his reflection in the mirror.

_“It’s. Made. Of. Brick.”_

Kurt shrugged. “Well I never said you couldn’t blast through it.”

_“I swear to god, you’re boyfriend is sadistic.”_

_“Can it, St. James.”_

“Aw, are they having trouble?” Sebastian smirked, stealing Kurt’s chair.

Kurt glared at him. “You know, I can always make good on my promise early.”

“I haven’t done anything!” Sebastian protested.

Kurt shrugged. “Call it precautionary.”

The first week of Adam’s Double-O license to kill status being reinstated, Kurt had sat him down in a chair and made his stance very clear:

_“I control you, 005. I control your life. I move you to where you need to go. I watch everything that you do. You may recall the incident of a few months prior when you were running your hands all over me, and I understand that from your perspective that you thought you were in the right doing that and that everything was wonderfully consensual. I’m here to tell you that it wasn’t. And I swear, if you ever touch anyone in that manner again, without their consent, I will insure that you die in the most painful way imaginable in the field.”_

When Sebastian had snickered at the proceedings, Kurt had made him the same promise.

Sebastian sent him a sharp glare before standing from his chair. “You’re lucky that you dislike Crawford as passionately as I do.”

“Whatever 006,” Kurt muttered as he watched Blaine navigate his way out of north France, towards the channel. “Excellent 007. You know your timetable. I’ll be waiting.”

_“Yes, Q.”_ The glare was dripping off the two words before Blaine signed off.

Kurt smiled, satisfied as he spun around in his chair, typing across a couple of keyboards.

“Might as well still call you BQ,” Sebastian muttered. “Everyone knows you’re _Blaine’s_ Quartermaster--”

“Can it, Smythe,” Kurt brushed past him. “Chang, take over. I have a wedding to get to.”

***

He got ready at an extremely leisurely pace, making sure he was in pristine condition in his slim black trousers, vest, and shirt before walking through the maze of Q Branch out to the street level. 

Checking his cell phone, he sighed in disappointment before a hand clasping a pocket watch reached over his shoulder, blocking the front of the phone and his lips curved into a smile. 

“Q.” 

Blaine stood behind him in a sharp white suit, pocketing his watch with a half-amused smile.

“007,” Kurt replied easily. “You’re on time. A miracle in itself.”

“Come on, darling,” Blaine rolled his eyes. “We’ve a wedding to get to.”

***

They sat in the third row, behind the royalty as they both turned to watch Princess Santana walk down the aisle in her stunning red wedding dress, rouge lips curled into an incomprehensibly ecstatic smile  with a fur-edged cape flowing behind her. She joined an utterly blissful Princess Brittany who was in a towering white dress, her own cape around her shoulders as she could barely contain herself from reaching out and grabbing Santana.

Kurt smiled as the two clasped hands and the ceremony began. Then he glanced down at his cellphone and had his fingers tap.

“Texting, love?” Blaine whispered into his ear.

“Insuring security, and that no outside parties will try and interfere or have a view to a kill,” Kurt murmured back. “Just like I know you’re scanning the room for potential threats.”

Blaine’s lips quirked. “Caught me.”

The ceremony was peaceful, however, and the princesses each got crowns as they were proclaimed the two duchesses of Cambridge, direct heiresses to the throne. 

Kurt and Blaine stood, clapping as the two happily raced down the aisle and out to their awaiting car. 

The rush of people followed but the odd couple lagged behind, walking down to Blaine’s restored Aston Martin (with its modifications that Kurt had made) and hopping in.

“Where to, darling?” Blaine smiled as they flew down the street. “Name a location, and it’s yours.”

“The world,” Kurt grinned, stretching back like a cat.

“The world is not enough,” Blaine shook his head adamantly. “I’ll take you to the stars.” 

Kurt snorted and adamantly ignored his blush. “Does that line always work for you?” 

“You tell me,” Blaine smirked, leaning in, lips inches away, and still managing to drive down the road in a perfectly straight line. “For the next week, I’m for your eyes only.”

Kurt had a clever retort on his lips that he was seriously considering throwing away in lieu of kissing Blaine, when Blaine’s phone went off.

Blaine glanced at the screen and groaned. “Just when you think you have some quantum of solace...” He sighed and clicked it on speakerphone. “Yes, M?”

Carmen’s voice crackled through the speaker. _“007. Q, are you there as well?”_

“Yes, ma’am,” Kurt answered easily. 

_“There’s a situation in Venice. A team of hackers are trying to take over the Italian networks. Q, we’re setting up a base onsite. 007, you’re needed for this mission. Understood?”_

“Yes, M,” they both answered.

Blaine pulled a sharp U-turn. “So. What do you think?”

“Hmmm,” Kurt contemplated lightly as they sped back to MI6. “Spending a month in Venice with the spy who loves me. I think I could get used to this mission.”

“As do I, Q. As do I.”

The end.


End file.
